


Fallen

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief stricken and guilt ridden, the Doctor hides himself away in a fob watch once more. Dimension hopping Rose stumbles upon a wrecked TARDIS and no indication of what happened to the Doctor. Thrust into a world she thought only existed in fiction, she finds the Doctor a changed man, Dark Mark branded on his arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Crossover between Doctor Who and Harry Potter (during Goblet of Fire). For the Doctor this takes place between Waters of Mars and End of Time. WARNING: There will be violence in this story, it won't be super blood and gore or anything (after all it's magic), but it's there. I'll try to add extra warning at the beginning of chapters that contain it.

The TARDIS lurched and groaned in protest. The normal smooth ride in the vortex becoming rough and hazardous. Good thing he was used to it. Images and feelings portraying anger and hurt flashed through his mind. He knew she wasn't going to like the idea the moment it came to him. He hated what it would mean for her. But he just couldn't do this anymore. 

There had been too much loss, too much pain. He was drowning. The last of the almighty Time Lords, snuffed out because he couldn't deal with the loss of one human girl. Well, woman really. Last time he saw her, there was nothing girlish about her. She had blossomed into a strong capable woman. He could see her newly hardened edges, could even guess why they were there. He never had the opportunity to ask. And now he never would. Not this him anyway. He wasn’t sure what hurt more. The fact that he wouldn’t get to even see her again, or the fact that some other version of himself would get to see her everyday. 

To be fair, it wasn't just her. 

Donna. His best friend. She had saved him in more ways than one. She hadn’t fixed him the same way Rose had. But she kept the loss of Rose at bay, made it ok to feel the loss. She never let him go too far, never let him spiral completely downward. In her own way, she understood. Temporarily as the DoctorDonna, she had saved the universe. But the price was her memories of their time together. He could never speak to her again. If the memories came back, she would burn from the inside.

He had let all his other friends go too. Friends that, if he was honest with himself, he often took for granted. But now they were free to move on with their lives. Jack, Sarah Jane, Mickey, Martha. Even Jackie, although he would never say that out loud. Each dear to him in their own way. Gone.

The grief of the Time War still plagued him. And probably would the rest of his existence. Well, until he completed his plan. Well, it still might bleed through into his nightmares. But he wouldn't bear the same burden.

Her loss though, hurt the most. It was a gaping open wound across both his hearts. He thought he had been on his way towards healing, moving on. Then she had popped up, as if from one of his dreams. He had dared to hope that the universe was kind, that it had given him another chance. He had been a fool, the biggest fool to even entertain the thought. She had been ripped away, again.

That wasn't quite true either. He had left her. Well, that also was not the full truth. Yes, this him, this body had left her. Every fiber of his being had ached and screamed to touch her, to take her, to hold her and never let go. But he couldn’t...he never could. All he had were dreams and fragile hopes that maybe...but no. He tried to manipulate the outcome, but she had other ideas. She took control of the situation, giving him the chance to give in to his feelings and desires. He couldn’t, no matter how badly he wanted to. Choice made, he had turned and all but ran back to the TARDIS. No goodbye. No last glance back. He didn't even take a last look at her through the monitor. The last image he had of her would be forever burnt into his mind. Her clinging to another man, lips locked in a kiss born of pent up passion. He hated the other man.

Well, not really. But also yes. His metacrisis. Part Time Lord, part human. They were nearly identical, save some minor physiological changes (namely one heart, meaning one life, no regeneration). Same thoughts, same memories, same burning love for her.The lucky bastard would now be spending the rest of his part human life with one Rose Tyler. He had given her that piece of him, because he knew what that would mean for her. His metacrisis would be able to love her freely, the way he had always wanted to, without the weight of the universe crushing him down.

His nightmares were no longer of his burning planet, his people on fire. Now they were of Rose. Rose being sucked into the void. Rose sacrificing herself, taking the Dalek shot meant for him. Rose on Bad Wolf Bay, twice over. Once alone, tears streaming down her face. And once in the arms of another, momentarily forgetting (or ignoring) his own existence. Rose being ripped from him over and over. He would wake up in a panic, hearts twisting painfully, gasping for air. He put off sleeping as much as he dared. 

He growled and slammed his fist down on the console. He jerked his hand back, the edge of his hand stung. He had nicked himself on something. Blood was pooling in the cut, seeping out in thick droplets. Droplets of dark crimson, the color of rose petals. Rose.

That was the problem, everything linked back to her. Everything reminded him of her. He shouldn't be surprised really. This body had been born out of love for her. And now it was going mad from grief. It couldn’t survive without her touch, without her smile. Everything reminded him of her, and all he had were regrets.

He tried to move on. He gave it a go. But he either ended up trying to kill himself, properly kill himself without regenerating, or he went blind with power, a vengeful god.

"Is there nothing you can't do?"

"Not any more."

Adelaide's final words rang in his ears. He had become so cocky and arrogant, believing he could bend time to his will, uncaring of the consequences. The Time Lord Victorious.

She had taken her own life, wrestled control away from him and into her own hands. It had placed the smallest of cracks in his confidence. But there was always next time. Next time he would know what to watch for. Next time...but the Ood had appeared.

That particular Ood didn't speak a word to him. He didn't have to. His presence alone sent a chill to his core, effectively ending the reign of the Time Lord Victorious before it even began. The Ood was a signal of his death, his regeneration, the ending of his song. So he had done the only thing left to him. He ran.

The TARDIS interrupted his thought with another image. Red, nothing but red. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally pushing her back. He knew she would never lash out and harm him, but she was definitely angry.

He licked the metallic tang off his hand, sending her reassurances. He was sorry, so sorry. This was going to be harder for her. There were no other options. 

He began flicking switches, flipping levers, randomly pressing buttons. He felt the change as the TARDIS dropped out of the time vortex. The lights in the console room flashed, casting harsh shadows across the walls. He had placed their destination on random. It didn’t matter where, or when, he ended up, the new him would adapt (or not) to whatever it was. Life or death, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He pulled the fob watch out of his suit pocket, running his thumb across the faded and worn etchings on the back. Most of design was gone, leaving behind cool smooth metal. The TARDIS tried to send him a warning, an image of the Master, cackling and drunk on dominating the world. Another loss that clenched his hearts. He pushed the image away, ignoring whatever warning she had been trying to give. He had done this before. The last thing he needed was a lesson in the form of some twisted metaphor having to deal with the Master and his lust for destruction. This was different.

He placed the watch in it’s slot on the console then performed the sequence that would lower the other necessary component. The device lowered from the ceiling ominously. Absently, he ran a hand through his hair causing it to stick up more so than usual. The last time he had used this he had sworn never again. He had been running then too. But that had been for his life, that had been with the intention of living, of hiding and then coming back to himself. Not this time. This was a permanent escape. Whether he lived or died after the change, he didn’t bloody care. If he lived a long happy life, good for John Smith...or whoever he would become. If he died immediately upon exiting the TARDIS doors, well, that was fine too.

He had one last thing to do before changing. Staring at the gently pulsing time rotor, he caressed the edge of the console. He tried to convey as much as he could bear to his ship; his thanks, his sorrow, his apologies. Once he had changed, there would be no more Time Lords. The TARDIS, his only constant companion would be alone, left to die. Still...he needed to do what he could to prevent her technology from falling into the wrong hands, on the off chance someone managed to actually get inside. She hummed contentedly at his communications, resigning herself to her fate.

One more heartfelt goodbye. The dam broke. The rage and violence he felt towards the universe burst forth, consuming him. Carelessly he ran around the console twisting, pulling, pushing all manner of controls. Some part of his Time Lord brain made sure he didn’t damage the Chameleon Arch system. He grabbed the mallet and attacked with reckless abandon. Sparks flew and exploded from ceiling. More hissed at him near his fingers. The thud of his trainers on the metal grating created a crazed beat as he dashed around the console, faster and faster, banging and breaking whatever he could reach. The lights flashed dangerously before extinguishing altogether. The glow of the time rotor cast haunted shadows across his features. His eyes were black, the reflection of sparks flashed like lightning in the depths of a brewing storm.

The TARDIS spun wildly out of control, careening to some unknown destination. She whined in dissent, this time quiet and muted in the back of his mind. Just a gentle reminder that she still didn't agree. 

Satisfied with his work, he paused, panting heavily. He only had a few minutes before the ship would crash land. The anger that had coursed through his body fizzed out of existence. Cold resignation taking its place.

Quickly, he changed into the clothes he had stashed under the console. Luckily, they hadn’t caught fire. The suit that had once acted as his armor, emotionally speaking, was thrown haphazardly around the room. He would need a different set for this. He slipped into all black; boots, trousers, and a cotton t shirt that he covered with a battered leather jacket. He was reminded of his ninth self, directly after the Time War and found it oddly appropriate. He was mourning this time too. Only this time it was so much more than the guilt and loss of his people. 

He stepped into place, he was ready. He placed the Chameleon Arch on his head, closing his eyes. He spared one last moment to think of Rose. Brilliant, loving, beautiful Rose. All his memories of her flashed through his mind. All of them tinged with regret of what could have been had he not been such a coward. No, not what could have been. What should have been. Knowing she was in capable hands in the other universe only brought the smallest amount of comfort. 

Ready to slip into blissful oblivion, no longer bearing the weight of 'the Doctor', he began the process. Screams tore at his throat as cells and DNA ripped apart and reformed. An intense burning spread all over, smoldering with no sign of ever ending. It felt worse dying. The pain coursing through his body finally matching the pain in his hearts.

The TARDIS slammed into the ground just as the biology rewrite came to a halt. The TARDIS tried to reach out and warn him, but she came against a wall. The device had been pulled from his head with the rough landing. She was too late. 

The TARDIS landed on her side, amidst various tents and campfires. It was dark and cool, something in the air setting nerves on edge. Frightened cries and frantic yelling filled the night. People ran in all directions. Green and red light bolted through the debris and throngs of people. Four people, previously suspended in mid air, crashed down to the ground.

Having next to no control over her systems, the TARDIS could only groan as the Doctor, or whoever he had become, tumbled out the doors in a cloud of smoke. He sprawled out on his back, unconscious. In the distance a beam of green light hit the wrong target.

The clouds parted, there was a blinding flash. A skull, glowing pale green, cackled in the sky. Slithering out over its sharp decaying teeth, a snake hissed and twisted in over itself. The screams and shrieks grew ten fold.

The Dark Mark hung ominously in the sky. The Time Lord formally known as the Doctor, now completely human, didn't stir.


	2. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my fabulous beta, yearn4themoon.

Fog and smoke from quickly extinguished fires mixed and hung oppressively low in the air. Faint shouts of people trying to relocated one another echoed in the night. A lone figure crept through the darkness, sticking to the disjointed shadows as much as possible.

Where could he have gone? If the boy, for that's how he always referred to his adult son, had run off and was then discovered...no. He wouldn't think of those consequences yet. 

He continued to pick his way through trees and trodden camping equipment, trying his best to avoid ruining his crisp grey suit. His robes were thrown on haphazardly, still open in the front, and his black bowler hat sat lopsided on his head. Beady black eyes searched in the dim light. Most of the fires had gone out, leaving the foreboding green icon in the sky the only light to see by.

He still regretted his decision to allow _him_ to come in first place. Winky had insisted for weeks that the boy be allowed to go. He had managed to stand firm, that boy didn't deserve to be out and about. Then Winky had brought up the boy’s mother, leaving no choice. He allowed the boy to go. Under strict conditions of course. But that hardly seemed to matter now.

He pushed his thoughts and feelings aside. He wasn’t one to be ruled by emotion. Action, that’s what was needed right now. He had to find him. Before someone else did.

As unlikely a candidate as he was, there was a temporary moment of relief when the prime suspect was Harry Potter. Of course, Harry conjuring the Dark Mark was ridiculous, but at least it wouldn't have been _him_.

Then Winky had been found, and he knew. Everyone was convinced that the house elf, his house elf, was guilty. Finding her with Harry's wand and proving it had been the wand to cast the spell, only cemented her guilt. But he knew better. He knew the boy had been the true culprit, it was only a matter of finding him now. Surely, one of their spells had managed to accidentally graze him. 

He came to a small clearing, just on the other side of the patch of trees where they had found Winky. A blue box lay on its side, crushing the tent beneath it. An old police box? Here? How peculiar. No doubt some group of rambunctious wizards having a laugh, no regard for rules or proprietary. 

He crept closer, eyes glued to the ground, searching. Hoping to find the smallest clue that something was out of place. 

He spotted him. Out in the open, no invisibility cloak to shield him. Mentally cursing the boy, he rushed forward, pulling out the spare invisibility cloak he had decided to bring at the last moment, just in case. Good thing too. A quick sweep of the area didn't yield the cloak _he_ was supposed to have on him, at all times.

The boy was sprawled out on the grass, slightly cushioned by someone's long forgotten sleeping bag. He lay only a foot or so from the fallen police box. His chestnut hair flopped away from his face. For once he looked peaceful. 

The man sighed, placing the cloak over the boy after he had made sure he was still alive. Shallow breathing confirmed he had most likely been hit by one of the stunning spells.

The older man entertained the idea of finding the boy dead, hit by one of the death eater's spells instead. It would make his life easier. But he had promised the boy's mother to take care of him. 

He took out his wand, looking furtively around the area. Voices shouted in the distance, but he could hear nothing in the immediate vicinity, yet. He needed to get away from here quickly. He couldn't afford to be spotted, or for the boy to wake up before the situation was remedied. 

He flicked his wand, silently levitating the body off the ground, careful to keep it hidden by the cloak. He would get back to Winky then the three of them would head home. He made a mental note to have the police box taken back to the ministry, Arthur could deal with it.

His heart rate increased as he walked back across the clearing, body in tow. His eyes darted in every direction, ears picking up every little sound. He wouldn't think on the boy's actions until they were safely at home, the boy once more under control. 

As far as he was concerned, this was just further proof that the boy was not fit to be called his son. Even after all these years Barty Crouch regretted ever naming the boy after himself. Bartemius Jr. had brought nothing but suffering and shame on the name of Crouch. The older man stood by his words when he first sentenced the boy to Azkaban. He had no son. 

Making sure to avoiding ramming the floating body into any obstacles, he made his way slowly back through the trees. Two figures stood in the other open area, right where he had left them. He made sure the boy remained a few feet off the ground, right on the edge of the tree line, as he went to retrieve his house elf.

“Amos.” Barty’s voice was calm and smooth, hiding the nervousness he felt inside.

The other man spun around, wand slightly pointed at the house elf huddled near his feet. He was tall and his loose brown hair was starting to grey with age. His spectacled eyes searched the area before landing on Barty, face splitting into a friendly smile. “Ah, there you are Barty. Any luck?”

“I’m afraid not. The others will have to continue the search, although it’s unlikely that anyone will be found. Even if the elf is telling the truth.” His gaze bored into the house elf, who began to shake and mutter over and over that she didn’t do it. “I’m going to take her home, where I can suitably punish her for this matter.”

Amos Diggory looked slightly uncomfortable but only said, “Of course, we will take care of it from here.” Barty Crouch was a high ranking Ministry official after all, no point in unnecessarily ruffling his feathers.

“Come here,” Barty snapped to the quivering house elf. Winky cast a desperate glance at Amos before scurrying to her place by Barty’s side. “Oh, Amos. There is an old police box on the other side of the trees. Before the night is out, make sure it gets back to the Ministry. I want Arthur, er, Weatherby, no. Weasley, yes. I want Arthur Weasley to take a look at it.”   
Amos nodded then went off to help with the search for the man who had supposedly cast the Dark Mark. Barty knew they wouldn't find anything. But he dared not call off the search this early, afraid of arising suspicion.

Without a word, Barty began to walk back towards the edge of the trees, knowing that in her frightened state Winky would follow without question. Making sure no one was watching, Mr. Crouch reached his hand out, slowly waving back and forth until he touched invisible fabric. He looked down in disgust at the still cowering house elf. “Living room.” With a twist and a pop, he was gone, taking the floating body with him.

Barty Crouch Sr. lived in a house that was secluded from everything else around it. He had a higher up position with the Ministry of Magic, and you could see it by looking at the size of the house and imagining what it used to look like. The past several years had seen the house become a bit run down. It wasn’t in a state of decay, but it was definitely lacking in attention. The inside was only marginally better. Winky was able to keep up with most of the cleaning and other household chores. 

Those however, were second to her most important task. Keeping watch over Barty Jr., making sure he stayed hidden within the walls of the house. The elder Crouch had gone to great lengths helping his son escape Azkaban. He would have been content to let his son rot in the wizarding prison for the rest of his miserable life. His wife had been dying and insistent that he help their son escape. Pulling some strings within the Ministry, Barty had arranged a visit. With the aid of some polyjuice potion his wife and the boy had switched places. The dementors being blind only sensed that a body shrouded in decay and near to death had entered, the same addled body slinking out the doors. His wife had died in Azkaban and was now buried in a grave, claiming to be their son’s, outside building. His love for her and respect for the last promise he had made her were the only reasons he put up with the boy.

Barty Sr. had been using the Imperious Curse to keep the boy in check, in addition to binding him to Winky. Something had clearly gone wrong tonight. He had split from the house elf and been freed from the curse. His own will restored, he had stolen a wand, the wand of Harry Potter no less, and hurled the Dark Mark into the sky. Barty Sr. knew it had to have been him, there was no other explanation. The short time he had spent in Azkaban doing nothing to quell his love for the Dark Lord. 

Appearing in the middle of the living room, he pulled the invisibility cloak off of the his son and guided the body to the over stuffed sofa. Once he had arranged the boy, he flicked his wand at the usually empty fireplace. A fire roared to life, long dark shadows danced around the room. A quiet pop sounded behind him. He spun around, towering over the house elf. “I told you not to let him out of your sight. I told you he was not to be trusted!"

“I-I am sorry, Master. I...I will d-do b-better next time!” The house elf trembled, not daring to look him in the eye.

“There won’t be a next time.” Barty’s voice was cold and harsh, the only emotion possibly detected being that of fury.

The house elf threw herself upon him, clutching at the bottom of his robes and trousers. “No, sir! P-please, sir! I will do b-better!” She was shrieking and crying, entire body trembling from fear and anxiety.

“Remove yourself!” Barty spat, spittle flying and shining in the fire light.

Winky recoiled, as if he had hit her. "P-please, sir. It was not my fault. I-I fought him, sir! B-but his will was too strong." Tears formed in her eyes, she dropped to her knees, still pleading against the inevitable.

"I do not want your pathetic excuses. You may not have been the one to cast the spell, but thanks to your negligence you are just as guilty.” The house elf convulsed with powerful sobs, tears pouring from her large eyes. His face twisted and twitched with rage. The wretch of a creature had nearly cost him everything. He would surely be sent to Azkaban if the truth of the matter had been uncovered. “You have failed me for the last time.”

Winky wailed, the body on the couch twitched. “No! P-please! I stay! I help master keep his s-secret!” Her words become indiscernible as sobs took over once more.

He wanted the elf out of his sight, he had important matters to deal with. In a flourish he whipped off his tie then thrust it under Winky’s nose. “Take it. You are free.” His fury had subsided, cold calculating logic taking its rightful place.

Fresh sobs and protests erupted from Winky as she took the tie with shaking hands. She tried to plead with him one more time. “Please, s-sir. Please, let me-”

“You have your freedom. Leave me.”

Looking between father and son one last time, Winky vanished with an audible pop.

Heaving a sigh, Barty looked at his son lying on the sofa. He decided it would be best to wait until he had woken up before reinstating the curse. He sat on a nearby high back chair, waiting.

…..

Fuzzy, everything was fuzzy. His limbs, his vision, his memory...all of it. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was hungry. So hungry. Experimentally he wiggled fingers and toes, waiting for his vision to clear.   
He was in a room, a living room of some sort maybe. There was a sparse amount of furniture in the room, walls devoid of any kind of picture or decoration. A fire burned low in the fireplace, mantle also blank aside from a thin layer of dust. 

Feeling began spreading through his body. The hunger was becoming unbearable. He sat up, taking notice of the man staring at him from his seat by the fire. “Who are you?” He rubbed at his throat, seemingly hoarse from disuse. 

The man’s tiny eyes bugged wide, the thin mustache twitching over his lips. “What do you mean, boy?”

He made a show of rolling his head, fixing the man with an exasperated stare. “I mean exactly what I said. Who. Are. You?”

The man leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know what you are playing at, but I’ve had enough. I will not play games with you!”

“I’m not playing at anything. I don’t know you.” He paused. “I don’t know me either.”

The other man’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You’re serious.”

“Quite. Do you have anything to eat? I’m starved.” He grabbed at the fabric of his shirt over his stomach, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

For one moment, Barty Sr. had thought that maybe he had brought back the wrong person. But it couldn’t be. The man in front of him looked every bit like his son. The jacket was one he hadn’t seen before, but otherwise he looked the same. The darting movement of his tongue convinced the older man that this was his son, but something had appeared to have damaged his memories.

He could leave him like this. Unsure of who he was, try and start over. But what if he one day remembered? And how would he keep him under control if he didn’t know what he had done wrong? As awful as it would be, the boy’s mother would want his memories restored.

The elder Crouch rose from his chair. “Come with me.” 

The younger man got up from the sofa significantly slower. He pressed a hand to his forehead as vague images and ideas flashed through his mind. A blue box. Space. A blonde girl, always walking away. An orange ball of fire. And two names...Doctor and Master. He shook his head, those were unusual names, and therefore probably not his.

“This way.” The other man waved impatiently.

They walked through the house in silence. The house appeared to be devoid of any personal decoration. You could hardly tell that someone did in fact live here. He followed the older man through a locked door and down a flight of stairs to the basement. It was a large open room, a single twin bed in one corner. Random items were scattered throughout the room. Books, quills, parchment, a few large trunks. Odd objects he didn’t recognize. There was only one door, he could only assume it lead to a loo of some sort.

Memories, or what he assumed were memories, drifted through his mind. Thin threads that he only caught vague glances of. Anytime he tried to reach for one, make it solid, it simply trickled out of existence. In a way it left his mind feeling even fuzzier than before. At least now he felt like he knew this place and the man standing before him.

He stared around the dimly lit room, waiting as the other man opened a locked cabinet that was shoved into a particularly dark corner. He removed a shallow basin from one of the shelves, setting it on the nearby pedestal covered in cobwebs. He had a stern, drawn look on his face when he turned back around.

“This is a pensive. It contains all, or most of your memories. Before...our arrangement, you insisted on preserving all of your memories, in case of permanent damage.”

“Arrangement? What sort of arrangement would give me reason to be concerned about memory loss?” His stomach growled.

The other man shook his head. “You’ll understand after you look at them. You only need to submerge your face and you will be able to see them. Take as much time as you need. Just know that I will be right here.”

“Why? For comfort?” He sneered, lip curling over his teeth. He had a distrust for the man standing in front of him. Just a feeling he couldn’t place. Maybe the memories would help.

The other man glared back. “No. I know I said take your time, but you must start now. I do have a schedule. Whatever gaps you find in your memory, I will do my best to fill in. Get started.”

The man commanded him with an easy authority, remaining emotionally detached. It grated on his nerve. Who did he think he was? Hopefully the memories would help solve that answer. 

The basin was filled with sparkling water, shimmering silvery wisps swirling beneath the surface. It should seem strange, sticking his head in a bowl of water to recover his memories. It didnt. An almost memory flitted through his mind. More like a memory of a memory, words not pictures. Something about a boy named Harry Potter. He shook his head, drew in a breath, then plunged his face into the cool water.

Childhood memories were there and gone in the blink of an eye. Leaving him with more of an impression than any solid events. A loving mother who would do anything for him. A strict and distant father. Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin house. Classes upon classes. Dabbling in the Dark Arts. 

Lord Voldemort and the Wizarding War. The brand marked deep into his skin, piercing straight to his soul, the Dark Mark. Finding a father figure who appreciated his intelligence and skill. The thrill and pleasure of killing and all around wreaking havoc.

Lord Voldemort's fall. Torturing a couple from the opposing side, the Longbottoms. Their screams and cries bounced through his head, sending shivers of excitement down his spine. Betrayal from one of his own, Karkaroff. The scene in the court room. His father's cold words, "You are no son of mine." Azkaban. Escaping by trading places with his ailing mother. His father keeping him under lock and key. Binding him to their house elf, Winky, and controlling him with the Imperious Curse. Having to live his life under an invisibility cloak.

Bertha Jorkins stumbling upon their secret. Altering her memory, too much so. Convincing his father to go to the Quidditch World Cup. Then...nothing.

He pulled his head out of the water, gasping and not wet. He turned to the other man, who had pulled up a rickety wooden chair a few feet away. Licking his lips before giving the man a sly grin, he snarled, "Hello, father."


	3. Enter the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updating. I had a sick kiddo for almost a week, super not fun when they are still infants and some stupid family drama to deal with. But here's the update! And my wonderful beta, yearn4themoon, already has the next chapter done too! So it won't be long between this and the next update!

The elder man recoiled, his son's words echoing what he had said the day he had him sentenced to Azkaban. His mouth flopped open. 

The younger man laughed, pleased with the elicited reaction. "Is that anyway to greet your son?"

Barty Sr. recovered quickly, standing up and staring the boy down. "I have no son."

"Then why help me recover my memories?"

"You know that any niceties you receive are out of respect for your mother. If you don't need anything, we will go back to our regular routine." He raised his wand, pointing it at the other man.

"Wait! My last memory is being informed that I could attend the Quidditch World Cup. Have I missed it?" He didn't really care if he had missed the actual event. But he had a niggling feeling that he had been planning something during the outing.

Wand lowering slightly, Barty Sr. furrowed his brow. It made sense that he wouldn't remember that, after all they had just returned. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was wrong. Something about his son was off. He couldn't place it. Maybe it was simply that they hadn't conversed without the influence of the curse in a long while. He shrugged his shoulders. "That's where we just came from. You somehow managed to escape from Winky, steal the wand of-"

"Harry Potter." The memory came flooding back. Sneaking around under cover of the invisibility cloak. He had no trouble over powering the weak house elf once he had snagged Harry's wand. "I cast the Dark Mark into the sky. Lord Voldemort will know his faithful servant has not abandoned him!"

"Silence! Winky was found with the wand, luckily for you. However, I had to dismiss her as punishment. Which also means I will have to make the curse stronger this time."

Barty Jr. growled deep in his throat. "I should not be kept caged up like some animal!"

"You're lucky to be alive, boy! I promised your mother to take care of you, keep you safe. Nothing more."

The younger man lunged at his father, hoping to catch him by surprise. Under normal circumstances, he was certain that he would be able to take his father down. But something was wrong with his body. He was sluggish and still felt as if he were in a daze. 

Barty Sr. quickly stepped to the side and brandished his wand at his son. "Imperio!"

The younger man stumbled then slowly righted himself. He felt the anger and bloodlust drain from his body. A contented happiness wrapped around him, leaving him without a care in the world. His body felt weightless and he smiled at the his father, eyes vacant.

The greying man heaved a sigh of relief, heart rate slowing back to normal. Keeping his wand level, just in case, he spoke to the boy in a firm voice. "Go lay in your bed and sleep."

Barty Junior wobbled slightly on his feet before turning and shuffling to the bed. Arranging himself so that most of his lanky frame fit on the bed, he closed his eyes. 

Father watched his son for several minutes, making sure the boy was asleep, before heading back up the stairs.

.....

The air fizzled and crackled, blue light shimmering and sparking in the foggy darkness. A petite blonde figure burst through the glare with a loud crack, running flat out. He hair streamed out behind her, swishing around her shoulders as she tried to slow her steps without tripping over the objects littered all over the ground. 

She came to a stop, panting roughly. She tugged on the bottom of her blue leather jacket, adjusting it over the purple jumper. Wiping the sweat from her palms on her fitted black trousers, she took stock of her surroundings.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Rose Tyler's Torchwood training kicked in to high gear.

She was in some sort of partially wooded area, groups of trees dotted the area randomly. What appeared to be various camping equipment filled up the space devoid of plant life. A shiver went down her spine. The place was abandoned. Tufts of smoke drifted up from what she assumed used to be campfires. Tents stood at unnatural angles, some completely trampled to the ground. Whoever had been here, they had left in a hurry.

The silence was unnatural and pressed in around her. She crouched lower to the ground. She would survey the immediate area one time before activating the dimension hopper again. She moved her black boots gingerly through the random items tossed about.

Upon first impression, she had come to the wrong place and time, again. She was fairly certain this was Earth, in her proper universe even. But the timing still felt off. She pushed back the bitter disappointment, there would be time for that later. There was a feeling in the air telling her to stay on high alert. She had circled about half the clearing, ready to get out of there, when she felt a warmth begin to grow on her chest. Instinctively she brought a hand up to touch the spot. Her TARDIS key.

She used both hands to yank the chain free from under her shirt. Holding the key in the palm of her hand, she felt its comforting heat radiate through her body. The slight glow giving fuel to a tiny hope she dared not to voice. She was in the right universe then. That was something. She craned her neck to look at the sky. The stars were all there. She was too early. Or too late? Maybe it had already happened. It didn't matter, she couldn't stay.

Then again...the Doctor, being him, had a tendency for getting into trouble. She had already helped him out a handful of times, careful to stay out of sight or at least not give away too much information if he did happen to speak to her. Those were the times that gave her hope when she came back from mission after mission where the Doctor was no where to be found. Especially when she came back, clinging to life by the skin of her teeth. She had come so far already. She couldn't give up now.

Hopefully the TARDIS wasn't too far away. She scanned the area ahead of her. Now that her eyes were more adjusted to the darkness, she was able to pick out more details. There was something odd about the items discarded on the ground. She noticed two separate color themes. Almost as if a sporting event had taken place. She snorted at the almost normalcy of it all.

The clouds parted, giving her a little more light to see by. Her heart leapt in her throat and she froze in shock. The TARDIS was lying on her side on almost the other side of the clearing. Rose’s eyes flicked around the area again, nothing. Straining her ears and holding her breath, she could hear far away voices. Otherwise nothing. Something was very wrong. The Doctor wasn’t the best driver, but he had never landed the TARDIS on her side. Certainly would never her leave her that way either. Maybe he was inside, injured and helpless. Her feet moved of their own accord.

She was trying to force the panic down. It would do her, or the Doctor, no good to get into trouble now. Not when she was so close. Her eyes had been so focused on the TARDIS that she didn’t see the body until her foot collided with the owner’s boot. She spun in the direction of the offending object, not expecting what she saw. 

Her eyes flew wide as she realized it was a man’s body. She nudged his black boot with her own. Nothing. She tried once more, harder this time. Still nothing. No movement, no sound. She swallowed hard, he was probably dead. She was no stranger to death, but something about the body set her even more on edge. She crept up towards his head, taking in his appearance. He was clad all in black; his boots, trousers, shirt, and large leather jacket. His silver belt buckle the only splash of color. 

Her eyes fell on his pale face and she choked back the strangled cry trying to tear its way out of her throat. She dropped to her knees, pulling his head into her lap. It was the Doctor. She'd never seen him dressed this way, although it eerily reminded her of when she first met him. He'd had a different face then. This face though, she'd know this face anywhere. It had haunted her dreams, and fantasies, for the past several years while being stranded in Pete's World.

She stroked his wild hair back from his forehead, tears stinging her eyes. He wasn't breathing and she couldn't find a pulse. He was dead, and from the looks of it he had died alone. Her heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. She felt small and useless. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on his chest and cry. 

Stomping her emotions into submission, she made herself numb, letting her tactical instincts rule her actions. She placed his head gently on the ground before gripping him under the arms, lifting his torso slightly into the air. Dragging him across the ground, she swung her head back and forth, constantly on the look out and wincing every time his body lurched over an obstacle.

She finally made it to the TARDIS, still no sign of another person anywhere. Or any life for that matter. The voices she had heard earlier had vanished. Placing the Doctor’s body close to the doors, she straightened then placed a hand on the blue wooden surface. She pulled the chain from around her neck, slight smile on her lips. She slid the key into the lock, twisting with a satisfactory click. Pushing the doors open, her brow creased in concern. The inside was dim, the only light coming from the time rotor. It glowed a sickly green. 

Biting her lip, she glanced at the Doctor laying on the ground. She didn’t want to leave him out here, but she needed to make sure things were ok inside the TARDIS. She wasn’t even sure if the ship had enough power to keep the gravity oriented and stabilized properly. Not like any more harm could come to him. He was already dead. She blinked back tears. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

Gripping the edge of the doors, Rose angled her body and awkwardly climbed in. She was pleasantly surprised to find her feet grounded to the grating. She strolled over to one of the coral struts, the clang of her boots on metal disturbing the quiet that had settled in the console room.

“What’s wrong old girl?” Rose muttered, half to herself and half to the ship. Reaching her hand out, orange lighting flickered on as soon as her skin made contact with the coral. The familiar hum of the time ship buzzed faintly in Rose’s mind. She smiled and continued stroking the strut, trying to convey everything she was feeling. She was worried about the state of the TARDIS, but was truly grateful to find her. The time ship was still home to Rose. Once again, she was almost overcome with emotion.

Sighing and shaking her head, she removed her hand. “I’m sure you already know, but I have some bad news.” The TARDIS tried to convey something to Rose, but their connection was weak. Rose’s connection had never been as strong as the Doctor’s, but it had only been this unstable when she had first started traveling with him. She needed to find out why the TARDIS was in such shoddy condition.

First things first. She walked back to the doors. Twisting her body once again, she leaned out and gripped the Doctor firmly by the arms. She pulled with all her might, he was rather weighty despite his thin frame. The odd angle caused her fall back and land on her bum once she had yanked his body through the entrance. 

Red lights flashed around the room and a sense of urgency washed over her. Rose looked at the ceiling in confusion. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She caught a fuzzy view of the med bay...and a vague feeling she could only describe as wrong. “I don’t understand. He’s dead. Why take him there?”

The same picture swam behind Rose’s eyes. _Now._

“All right, all right. Don’t suppose you could make sure the room is close? I know you’re low on power...but he’s a bit hefty.” Strained comfort bounced around in Rose’s head. The ship would do what she could, but something was wrong. Rose began to get the idea that it had to do with more than just the current state she was in.

Rose quickly shut and locked the doors before dragging the Doctor up the ramp, around the console, and down a hallway. She sent her thanks to the TARDIS when she discovered the med bay only two doors in. She recognized the two doors on the other side of the hall, right next to eachother. Bedrooms. One belonging to her. The other to the Doctor. Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled his body into the med bay. Now was not the time to dwell on bedroom placement, and how the rooms looked inside. 

The room was mostly bare and appeared to still be sterile. The lighting was minimal, Rose could barely make out the cabinets that she knew lined the walls. The single exam table sat in the center of the room.

Rose was about to ask the TARDIS what she was supposed to do now when she noticed the exam table lowering to the floor. Right, don’t know what good that will do...but might as well entertain the old girl. The TARDIS had known the Doctor much longer than Rose had. She was likely just as broken up over it, but also had a better chance of helping. If there was anything that could be done at this point.

Rose heaved the Doctor’s body on to the exam table, loosely strapping him in so that he wouldn’t roll off as she raised the surface back up. A syringe and an empty vial had appeared on the tray beside the exam table. Rose shook her head. “I don’t understand.” She received an image of a similar vial full of red liquid. The TARDIS wanted her to draw some of his blood? What was going on?

As Rose danced her fingers over the equipment, the harsh bright lighting spasmed to life. Now that she could see, she had no excuse to not do it. Thanking her life on the run with the Doctor and her Torchwood medical course, she prepared the needle. Wait, she would need access to his inner elbow for the easiest draw. She set the needle back on the metal tray.

She released the strap around his torso, taking a moment to look at him before removing his jacket. His face was paler than she remembered, even his freckles had faded. His hair showed no evidence of being styled in the gravity defying manner she had become accustomed to. Instead it was matted and tangled, hanging unnaturally on his head. She cupped his cheek, biting her lip to prevent the sting of tears from flowing freely down her cheeks.

Sliding her hand down his neck, she slipped it under the collar of the leather jacket. She began pushing it off his shoulder. Within a few minutes she had managed to remove the article of clothing without toppling him onto the floor. She held it up, examining it properly in the light. She had never seen it before. Part of her wondered why he hadn’t just worn the leather jacket from his previous incarnation. 

She glanced over at his lifeless form. The jacket slipped out of her fingers, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Her mouth hung open and she blinked her eyes furiously. How had she missed _that_? She gulped and slowly approached the body. Tentatively she traced her fingers over the image on his left forearm that had caught her attention.

Black ink marred the Doctor's fair skin. A gruesome skull, snake pouring out of its mouth like a disfigured tongue. It curled in and over itself, forming a sort of figure eight. A tattoo. The Doctor had gotten a tattoo? Something niggled at the back of Rose's mind. She had seen this before. But that was only in...and why would the Doctor pick that of all things? 

Rose suppressed a shiver. She had too many questions and not enough answers. The body she had felt so distraught about finding earlier was now beginning to give her the creeps. The TARDIS flashed the image of the vial at Rose again. With shaking hands, Rose picked up the syringe. Hovering the needle over his arm, she clenched her jaw, willing her hands still. 

Once she had filled the vial with enough blood, she removed the needle and screwed the cap on to the tube of liquid. She looked at the ceiling. "Alright. What now?"

A light above a piece of equipment on a nearby countertop flashed twice. Rose smiled, at least the ship was able to communicate with her to some extent. She walked over to the small machine, vaguely recognizing it from the Doctor using it a handful of times when she had traveled with him. He had used it to analyze blood samples, gleaning a plethora of information from one little test. It took her a minute, but she figured out how to use it. Everything set and ready, there was nothing to do but wait.

The test would only need a few minutes to run, but she couldn’t spend it standing here. That feeling of wrongness continued to grow, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in the air. She marveled at the fact that a few minutes ago she almost gave up and snuggled into his body, not a care in the world. Now...being in the same room was making her uncomfortable. She couldn’t place it. Until she figured out what it was, she tried not to feel too guilty about heading back to the console room. 

The room was shrouded in near darkness, the orange lighting having gone out. Rose approached the time rotor and placed her hand against the glass. The hum of the TARDIS barely grew in her mind. Rose sighed and looked around, squinting to get a better look. The console was mangled and there were charred marks scattered across the surface. “What happened?” Rose gasped.

A flash of the mallet and a lone figure dancing in the darkness amid showers of white hot sparks.

“He did this? But-but why?” Rose was struck dumb. She couldn’t believe it. The TARDIS was his home and one constant companion. Why would he do such a thing?

The only response from the time ship was an tidal wave of loss and mourning. 

Rose doubled over, clutching her chest. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. The sad desperation was overwhelming. “Please…” she choked out. “Please, stop.” She was on her knees now, wiping at tears and gripping the fabric of her jacket over her heart. The TARDIS relented and Rose took a moment to recover her breathing.

She was about to stand when she noticed a brown and blue swirled tie laying on the floor a foot or so in front of her. She crawled forward, grasping the silky fabric in her shaking fingers. It was his, there was no doubt in her mind. She stood, running the tie absently through her hands. Eyes darting around the room, she noticed what she somehow missed the first time she entered. 

The Doctor’s clothes were strewn about the room. Some on the floor, some on the railings. He had apparently flung them about without caring where they ended up. Her gaze fell on the jump seat. His brown trench coat was half laying, half draped towards the floor. She immediately closed the distance, weaving the tie around her wrist. Scooping up the coat, she held it to her, breathing in his familiar scent. Memories of her time with him came flooding back. Holding his hand, lingering hugs, falling asleep on his shoulder in the media room...so many lost opportunities. She was about to give into tears this time. Voices from outside caused her head to snap up.

They were muffled at first. Rose went to the doors, hoping to hear better. She wasn’t afraid of them getting in, but the fact that she couldn’t see who was out there made her a little nervous. There were three distinct voices, but they all seemed to be grumbling and muttering under their breath, giving her the impression they weren’t pleased with whatever they were talking about. She was only able to make out three words, ‘Ministry of Magic’. _What_?

Something else clicked into place. The Doctor’s tattoo...it was the Dark Mark. She was losing her mind. That was the only explanation she could come up with. There was no way the Doctor would brand himself with the symbol of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She shook her head. Why was she debating the morals of that? Those were just figments of fiction, stories that didn’t really exist.

The TARDIS shuddered. The whole ship rocked wildly before stabilizing again. Rose remained balanced on her feet thanks to years of practice. Something felt different though, and she dared not peek out the doors. “What’s happening?”

The TARDIS sent an image of the ship floating through the air.

“We’re moving?”

She received a feeling of affirmation in response. 

“But...how?”

The ship didn’t answer. She sent Rose a picture of the med bay again instead.

Rose groaned. Fine. She slipped the Doctor’s jacket on as she walked. It was a little long for her, but the feel and smell brought her a sense of comfort when so many things were now out of her knowledge and control.

Entering the med bay, she barely glanced at the body on the exam table before crossing to the machine she had put the vial in. Standing in front of the equipment, a screen next to it flickered to life. Images and various information scrolled across it.

“What am I supposed to see?” Rose was exasperated. Half the information was in the Doctor's native language, something the TARDIS wouldn't translate. The other half that she could read wasn't going to do her any good if she didn't know the context.

The screen flashed, a picture of the Doctor. It changed to a spiraling triple helix. Rose assumed it was his DNA. The screen changed again, showing her the body currently lying on the exam table. This image was followed by a simple double helix. Rose gasped. 

“What are you telling me? He somehow made himself human?”

Images and feelings tumbled through her mind. Confirmation and dissent, a vice like machine, the body on the exam table, and many more she didn’t have time to process before the TARDIS was showing her something else.

“Woah, slow down. I don’t understand. Just...is that the Doctor, yes or no?”

The lights in the room flashed red, Rose felt anger seeping into her whole body. An image of the body lying on the table flickered briefly on the screen. Then a newspaper headline. Most of the words had been blurred out. The only thing Rose could read was a name, Barty Crouch Jr.


	4. Falling into Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to yearn4themoon for her awesome beta skills. I've been having some family issues lately, which has been killing my muse. I'll try to update as soon as I can, but please just bear with me. :)

Rose stared blankly at the screen. This was not possible. She was dreaming or maybe hit her head on a really hard surface this jump and just hadn't woken up yet. There was no way any of this was real. Was there?

Her first instinct was to dismiss all of it as fiction, an impossibility. But she had witnessed many things that were supposedly impossible. Had even proven a number of times that the word impossible should not be applied her. Ever.

But Harry Potter? That was a bit much. Of course it would be her luck to land smack in the middle of the wrong side of everything. Why couldn't she have ended up in Fred and George's joke shop? Having to save the Doctor from some ridiculous prank instead of what was shaping up to involve Death Eaters. Or had the joke shop not happened yet? 

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Assuming this, and everything in the books was actually _real_ , she needed to be very careful. Depending on when she had arrived, she had knowledge of future events and couldn't mess with them, no matter how much she wanted to.

She peered over her shoulder at the lifeless body. Barty Crouch Junior. Bile churned and rose in her throat, the weight of her earlier actions and who she had touched hitting her full force. Choking down the urge to vomit she walked cautiously over to the exam table.

She looked at him closely. He was absolutely identical to the Doctor. Granted he had a more gaunt and haunted appearance, and she imagined there was a hint of darkness that never left his eyes. Still...clean him up, shove him in a suit, and you'd have the Doctor. She didn't know how she had never put the two together. She had seen the movie once before. But that was before she had even met the Doctor. Before she had seen the magic and wonder of the universe unfold before her very eyes. Her brain ached, she would have to ask the Doctor to clarify the hows of everything once she found him.

That reminded her. The TARDIS had given her a muddled answer when she asked if the Doctor had become human. At the time, no clarification was offered. The time ship was apparently more interested in making sure Rose had properly identified the body. Well she had done that. Now she needed to figure out what was going on with the Doctor. 

Just not in here...not in a room with a corpse that looked too much like the man she was so desperately trying to find. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with the body though either. Leave it here? She couldn’t toss it. Not yet anyway, they were still moving. The TARDIS solved the problem for her, a glass casing lowered from the ceiling, sealing itself snugly around the exam table edges. Shiver running down her spine, Rose went back to the console room.

She plopped down in the jump seat, still wrapped in the Doctor’s coat. The lighting was still dim, greens and oranges faintly illuminating the cavernous room. Rose tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, gazing at the motionless time rotor. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Sparks fizzled from the console, layers of hurt, anger, and concern bombarded Rose one after the other. Rose jumped in the seat and clutched her head. The harsh emotions were immediately replaced with soothing hums full of apologies.

"It's alright. I know you're upset, and I bet your current condition doesn't help. But I need you to slow down. Just a silly little ape remember?" Rose smoothed her hands through her hair, smiling at the ceiling. 

Tiny bells of laughter tinkled in Rose's mind, but she could sense an underlying tone of disagreement as well. Abruptly her communication from the TARDIS was cut off. Rose frowned, but before she could panic the link was restored and three distinct images, one after another, clouded her mind. The images were crisp and clear, as if taken by a pricey camera. No feelings were connected to them, the ship must have been using all her energy to relay the pictures as clearly as possible.

The first was obviously the Doctor, brown pinstripes and white trainers. Head down and shoulders sagging, weight resting on hands currently braced on the console. The room was bright, the ship in full working order. Rose could pick out individual freckles on his face and see each gravity defying strand of his perfectly tousled hair. The urge to reach out and touch, using her fingers to trace patterns with the dots and ruffle his hair her own way, was overwhelming. She raised an arm, letting it fall back with a depressing thump as she remembered this was just an image in her mind. Before the picture shifted, she saw the raw grief in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, tears prickled at her eyes.

The image shifted. This time a strangled cry escaped her lips. It was still him. His clothes were different, he was now dressed almost exactly like the body in the other room. Only, she recognized the leather jacket. This was the one her first doctor had worn, when he had big ears and piercing blue eyes. The clothes were not the reason for her shout. It was the look of unbearable pain etched deeply into his handsome face, mouth open in a scream and eyes wrenched shut, and an odd device clamped to his head. 

Without thinking she hopped off the jump seat, stumbling towards the spot her mind told her he would be. Air. Her fingers closed around empty space. The reality that he was not here for her to comfort, that he had gone through that pain all his own, slammed into her with tremendous force. Rose crumpled to the ground, curling in on herself, snuggling into his coat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she let the familiar scent of him wash over her, slowly calming her frayed nerves. 

For a moment she was embarrassed for breaking down so completely, that hadn't happened for a long time. But remembering the look of emotional pain in the first image, she knew in combining the two images, there wasn't any other way for her to react. Those were events in the past, a past she couldn't go back and change. It's not as if she had broken down while they had occurred, she would never have forgiven herself if she had merely curled in a ball to cry, watching him endure the pain as it happened, instead of getting up to do something. As it was right now, there was nothing she could do. 

A new image took its place. It took Rose longer to process what was happening in this one. At first the angle appeared to be wrong, the console room was cloaked in shadows...and empty. A sliver of light caught Rose's attention. The TARDIS doors, they were open. A lean figure clothed in black was halfway out the door, smoke and the slant of his body indicating he was falling, not walking, out.

The faint orange glow in the console room vanished, leaving the time rotor alone for light. Rose didn't mind. She sat on the grating, attempting to process the new information. The TARDIS sent bursts of soothing waves, still trying to comfort Rose. 

Pieces were slowly falling into place in Rose's mind. Until she could absolutely prove otherwise, she was assuming that she had indeed arrived in the wizarding world of Harry Potter not too long after the Doctor, wait till Mickey heard this. A very dead Barty Crouch Jr. was two rooms down the hall. The Doctor had crashed here, intentionally by the looks of it, changed his clothes, and done something quite painful to his body.

She still had several problems. She didn't know what exactly the Doctor had done to himself. She didn't know where he was now. She wasn't sure where to start looking for him. And she had no idea where the TARDIS was being taken, or by whom.

Heaving a sigh, she stood back up. Reaching out and gently touching the console, she whispered to the empty room, "Don't suppose you could tell me _what_ that thing was on his head, and what it did to him?"

The TARDIS groaned in response, their earlier communication having drained her, unable to do anything more at the moment.

"It's alright, later then." No point getting worked up over it. Right well...there was only one thing that Rose could do now. Find out who the bloody hell was moving her damaged TARDIS, and why.

Rose spun around, marching purposefully toward the doors, a fiery determination in her eyes, the Doctor’s coat swishing about her legs and the oversized garment served to make her look taller instead of dwarfing her petite frame.

The TARDIS lurched, Rose fell sideways and gripped the railing for support. She stumbled a bit before carefully righting herself. There was some shuffling and muffled voices from outside the door. The TARDIS shook from side to side several times, a couple of loud bangs echoed in the room, before coming to a stop. Rose held her breath, straining her ears, trying to find any hint of sound from outside the doors. Silence.

Rose crossed the distance to the doors, pausing with one hand on the wood. She wasn’t scared. Quite the opposite. The familiar rush of adrenaline began coursing through her veins, her entire body humming with the excitement of the unknown looming ahead.

She cracked the door open, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, the only light being the pale sliver from the time rotor behind her that sneaked between the crack. The room, if could even be called that, was tiny. It was more like a closet. Two desks were pushed together in the cramped space. Rose could barely get the door open enough to slide herself out, wrly wishing for a flatter chest. How on earth had they gotten the TARDIS to fit in here? Paperwork and random items were cluttered atop both the surfaces. Squinting in the dark, Rose noticed two placards, one on each desk. There was a large M with a line pointing up from the middle, the words ‘Ministry of Magic’ underneath. The name read Perkins. Nothing she recognized.

She swiveled her head, angling her body for maximum lighting, to look at the name plate on the other desk, flanked by a rubber duck on each side. Rose snorted as she read the name. Weasley. Of course.

 

…..

 

Darkness enveloped the lone house, a biting chill seeping through all the cracks. Barty Crouch Sr. relit the fire in the fireplace. The flames jumped, licking at the crumbling bricks. He shifted deeper into his chair, wand resting across his lap. It had been two days since the Dark Mark incident. He had, of course, had to go into the office several times, but he tried to manage most of the work from his home. As far as he could tell, his son had done nothing but sleep for two days straight.

Perhaps that should bother him, but perhaps not. He didn’t really know. He had never been close to the boy before he had thrown his lot in with the Death Eaters. He saw no reason to get close to him now. With Winky gone, the responsibility for keeping his son hidden rested solely on his shoulders. He didn’t like it. He frowned and stared into the fire.

Lost to his brooding thoughts, he hardly noticed as the fire dimmed, an unsettling force descending on the house. The unnatural quiet, like a calm before a deadly storm, was what grabbed his attention. His eyes flicked quickly around the room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he leaned forward in his seat, one hand grasping his wand and the other white knuckled on the arm of the chair.

Nothing. The fire sank even lower, as if trying to escape whatever was coming. Barty Sr. slowly rose up and pointed his wand down the hall. He crept forward, internally debating on which was the wiser choice, casting light or wandering in darkness. The light from his wand would allow him to see better, and would chase away the oppressive shadows. It also had the enormous drawback of making him a glowing target. He opted for blackness, drifting from one dark patch to the next as soundlessly as possible.

His first mistake was assuming he wouldn’t be seen. His second, was walking by the front door and only giving it a passing glance.

The door exploded inward, shattering into hundreds of splinters. The assault of wood against his body, cause him to turn away from the cause, arms raised in an attempt to shield his face. He heard the crunch of debris beneath the intruder’s feet and hurriedly peered between his fingers. He caught the shadow of a short, stocky man. He had a wild mane of hair to his shoulders and was cradling something in his arm. The intruder raised his free arm, and Barty Sr. could hear the snarl proceeding what was sure to be the end.

A small, rasping voice stilled the threatening figure. “Wait, Wormtail. He could still be of use to us.” It came from whatever the man was holding, the calm calculating cadence of the words sent a chill straight to Barty’s core. “I will kill him, when the time is right.”

The world flashed a blinding red, before simmering away to inky blackness.

 

…..

 

Barty Jr. woke up with a start. His mind was sharp and he flipped through recent memories. His long limbs however, were sluggish, as if they hadn’t been used for several days. Slowly flexing his muscles, he tried to ascertain how long he had been lying in the cramped bed. He didn’t know for sure. A whisper of irritation brushed through his mind, he should be able to figure that simple answer out with no trouble at all. He shook his head, trying to clear the unexpected fog. A shooting pain in his stomach made his eyes bulge, all other annoyances forgotten. He was so, so hungry.

He was flopped over onto his back, staring momentarily at the ceiling before sitting up. He surveyed the dark room, tongue flicking out and over his lips, expecting to find his father in one of the beat up chairs. He was alone. He turned, swinging his legs out and to the floor. He stretched his arms out in front of him before running hands down his face. He was aware of, and remembered acutely, the events right before sleeping, but something at the edge of his mind remained foggy. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t clear the haze away.

The creak of the door at the top of the basement stairs alerted him to another presence. The footfalls were heavier than what he was used to from his father. For a moment he wished he had his wand. But reason told him that whoever it was probably meant him no harm, they weren’t exactly trying to stay quiet.

He rose from the bed, stalking towards the door in his room that led to the steps. Whoever it was, they would face him head on.

The footsteps paused on the other side of the door. Barty clenched his fists in anticipation, a wild look in his eyes that only served to make his grin more crazed.

The door lazily swung open, revealing a shorter, and heavier, man clad in ratty dark clothing. His beady blue eyes searched the room before landing on Barty.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” Barty snarled, taking a looming step forward.

The man blinked in surprise, opening his mouth to speak. A voice from near his chest drifted to Barty’s ears instead. “Let me see him, Wormtail.”

The man, Wormtail, snapped his jaw shut then shifted the object in his arms. A sunken pale face stared at Barty with milky eyes, a powerful intensity buried within them. The body was about the size of a small child and wrapped in black fraying cloth. Barty couldn’t tell if the cloth was a blanket or a robe.

The huddled figure spoke once more, raspy voice barely audible in the open room. “Ah, Barty. I have need of my most faithful servant.”

Wormtail flinched at his words, but Barty paid him no mind. He rushed forward, kneeling before the two men, gently placing a hand on the small cloaked figure. His plan at the Quidditch World Cup had succeeded. He had been found. “Tell me what needs to be done, my lord.”

 

…..

 

Lord Voldemort had come for him. Barty Jr. was where he had been trying to get to for years, Voldemort’s side. The Dark Lord was temporarily stuck in the tiny decrepit body, having to be fed a diet of unicorn’s blood and venom from Nagini. The temporary part was were Barty came in. He was needed to infiltrate Hogwarts and trick Harry Potter into a position where he would give up an ingredient Voldemort desperately needed. Blood.

Voldemort had placed Barty’s father under the Imperious curse, making him continue his daily duties at the ministry. It served dual purposes, lack of suspicion and another set of eyes and ears within the enemy’s ranks.

They were now situated around a sputtering fire in the old Riddle House. Voldemort, still radiating intense power despite his current frailty, was huddled in a ragged high back chair. Wormtail stood just off to the side of the chair, eyes darting nervously between the other two men in the room. Every so often his nose would twitch. Barty was crouched down in front of the chair, eyes full of awe, listening to every word the Dark Lord managed to croak out, absently scratching his left forearm.

“Tomorrow the auror will be at his home, alone. That is when we must strike. My plans hinges on this success.” Voldemort’s voice hissed out between ghostly thin lips.

“My Lord, we could still do it...without the boy.” Wormtail leaned forward, attempting to recapture his master’s attention.

“I told you that wasn’t good enough! Now be silent!”

Barty threw a scornful glance at Wormtail. “Don’t worry, my Lord. _I_ will make sure it is all taken care of.”

“Good. Now...let me see your arm.”

Barty blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. He had hardly noticed the fact that he had been scratching at it since he awoke earlier. It had become an unnoticed habit, much like the snake-like flick of his tongue. Wordlessly, he removed his heavy leather jacket, revealing thin yet toned arms. He held his left arm up for Voldemort to see. Immediately he saw the problem. The Dark Mark that had once branded his skin with pitch black coloring was instead a dull grey. He furrowed his brow. He remembered the mark fading to a red right after Voldemort’s initial defeat. He could never remember a time when it had been grey. Even if he could, it should not be grey now.

He was literally sitting at the Dark Lord’s feet, the mark should be so dark that it appeared to swallow the light out of the very room they were in. It should also be moving, writhing in anticipation of doing Voldemort’s bidding. The faded image on his arm was still, only moving with the experimental twitch of his muscle.

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Barty didn’t back down, he didn’t know the cause and he refused to be punished for something he had no control over. “I don’t know, my Lord. I can only assume it’s been like this since this evening. It was normal the night at the Quidditch World Cup. I can assure you, I did not tamper with it. Maybe my father…” He wasn’t going to make excuses for himself. He had proven himself a loyal follower, Voldemort had to see that.

Wormtail shuffled uncomfortably, wringing his hands. The silence stretched as lord and servant carefully examined each other.

“Very well,” Voldemort exhaled. His eyes snapped to the other man with the same force as his voice, “Wormtail, wand.”

“Y-yes, my Lord.” Wormtail clumsily removed a wand from inside his coat, gingerly placing it in Voldemort’s pale hand.

Barty maneuvered his arm under the point of Voldemort’s wand at the silent order in the other man’s eyes. He watched as the huddled figure closed his eyes, felt the power seep from the wand and bite into his exposed flesh. The mark spasmed and burned deep into his muscle as the shade turned the darkest shade black. A lazy satisfied smile spread across his face, welcoming the pain. He was home.


	5. Moody and the Ministry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience with this. Things have been rough at home, on top of trying to get ready to move. The move is in four days now! Yay! Huge thanks to my beta, yearn4themoon for her quick turn around on this, and listening to me complain. Something I meant to mention at the beginning of the first chapter, I have taken things from both the book and the movie in order to make this a little more complete. And...because I can. Thanks again! Not too much longer until Rose figures out what's going on.

The neighborhood was quiet and the streets empty, the owners just beginning the slow rise from sleep. The sky was still dark, the sun not yet ready to shine its light on the world below. At the end of the one way street sat the house that was to be their target. It was far enough away from other houses to avoid nosey neighbors, but close enough to not end up isolated in the middle of nowhere, alone.

 

Barty Jr. and Wormtail apparated just outside Alastor Moody’s house, having cast disillusionment charms on themselves prior to arriving. Wormtail had nervously suggested apparating inside the former auror’s house while they were still at the old Riddle Estate. Barty had laughed loudly at him, asking if he knew anything about aurors and why attempting that route would be such a blindingly stupid idea. Wormtail had shrunk in on himself, eyes flicking frantically everywhere but at Barty.

 

The pair stood at the end of the drive, invisible to passers by, although at this hour the street would stay deserted for a good deal longer. Barty sneered as he noticed the other man shake with nerves, head constantly swiveling to and fro. He himself stood tall and confident, letting the anticipation of the events to come sweep over him. He hoped Moody would put up a fight. A crazed grin spread slowly across his face, his lust for violence glinting in his dark eyes.

 

Glancing briefly at his cowering accomplice he strode up to the wrought iron gate. The spikes towered overhead, flowing out and around the entire property. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating and relishing in the destruction he was about to cause, tongue flicking out across his lips. In one smooth motion, he raised his borrowed wand, pointing it straight at the gate. “Confringo!”

 

The gate burst into flames, orange and gold traveling up the black rungs, swallowing them whole before poofing out of existence. Wormtail flung his arms up over his face, shielding his eyes from the warm light. Barty crossed the threshold before the flames had died away. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, this was only the first obstacle. An ex-auror of Moody’s stature would have more than an iron gate for protection. Barty cackled, joy in its most twisted form bubbling in his chest.

 

Loud shrieks pierced the air. Expecting this typical show of defense, Barty strode forward, unphased. His long legs covering the distance from the drive to the house with ease, leaving Wormtail to scamper quickly to keep up.

 

They were nearly to the door when a pair of trash bins came careening wildly around a corner of the house. They spewed garbage as they rocketed towards the intruders. Wormtail clumsily pulled out his wand as he darted to avoid a rotting head of lettuce. Barty smoothly stepped to the side to avoid a cardboard box, brandishing his wand at the nearest trash bin. “Incendio!”

 

The bin promptly exploded into flames, shaking and spluttering to a stop. He spun towards the other bin, still lobbing trash at Wormtail. He raised his wand again, exhilarated at the power pounding through his veins. He had missed this, and it was only going to get better.

 

Wormtail managed to point his wand first, shaky voice yelling, “Reducto!” The bin shattered into hundreds of pieces, fluttering in the breeze before resting on the lawn.

 

Barty cocked an eyebrow at him, impressed that the sniveling little wretch had managed to cast a productive spell. Wormtail smirked in return, standing a little straighter.

 

A deep voice echoed from inside the house, “Silencio.” The high pitched shrieks cut off, leaving an unnatural silence in their wake.

 

Barty instinctively crouched close to the ground. The ex-auror may know they were there, but that didn’t mean he had to make himself an easy target. Wormtail awkwardly tried to follow his example, tripping over his feet as they crossed the remaining few meters to the house.

 

“Shouldn’t we try an entrance that is...less obvious?” Wormtail hissed to Barty. They were crouched on either side of the front door, listening for any more tell tale signs from the inside.

 

Barty sneered. “He’s a former Auror, any entrance is obvious. Especially now.”

 

Wormtail narrowed his eyes, but remained silent on the topic.

 

Barty stood, flicking his wand at the door. “Incendio.” Flames burst out the end of the wand, greedily devouring the door in front of them. Ash crumbled slowly to the floor, revealing the darkened hallway behind the once solid object. Barty stepped through, ready for anything the other wizard had to throw at them. Wormtail hesitated before ducking in behind him.

 

They stalked quietly through the house, on alert for any sound that would betray their target’s location. 

 

Turning a corner, Barty moved quickly from his place against the wall to behind a couch. Wormtail made to follow when a shot of red zipped past, barely missing his shoulder.

 

Barty stayed low behind the couch, Wormtail hunkering down beside him. Wormtail, though steadfast in his loyalty to Lord Voldemort, battled against his strong sense of self perseverance, eyes darting around the dark room, looking for hidden ways of escape.

 

Barty had no such qualms. He thrived on the battle, lived for the chance to inflict pain and destruction. One corner of his mouth was twisted up in a leering grin, eyes ablaze with the excitement of violence coursing through every fiber of his being.

 

He popped up over the couch, hurling a spell at the area where the attack on Wormtail had come from, attempting to draw out their target. He ducked down as a bolt of red sizzled through the air in his direction. The lob of spells between the two determined men continued, some stray flashes of light destroying household objects. Wormtail had mostly stayed low behind the couch. Every so often, Barty would catch him moving, as if to stand but then thinking better of the idea.

 

Barty glowered at Wormtail. “Are you going to help?”

 

Wormtail didn’t answer, continuing to cower and wring his hands. Another bolt of red flashed over their heads. Barty silently counted to three, then grabbed Wormtail, hefting him over the couch, his thin frame hiding the strength he possessed underneath. The other man tumbled over the sofa, hands scratching and clawing against the rough fabric for purchase, desperate to get back into hiding. Before he could scramble to get away, a man lunged around a recliner hurling a spell that hit Wormtail square in the chest. His body went rigid and he fell the rest of the way to the floor with a loud thud.

 

Barty had been prepared for this, was hoping that would be Moody’s reaction. As soon as he had hurled Wormtail’s large form over the sofa, he dove around the side, wand out and waiting. At the first sign of movement, he flicked his wand, casting a binding spell that successfully hit Moody. Ropes appeared out of the air, snaking their way around Moody’s wide body. The ex-auror struggled against the bonds, losing his wand in the process.

 

Barty shot up from his position on the floor, crossing quickly over to Moody and ignoring the frantic look Wormtail was giving him. He picked up Moody’s wand, casually tossing it in the air before catching it again. He leered down at Moody, wicked glint in his eye. He pressed the tip of both wands into Moody’s cheek, leaning down to peer into the other man’s eyes. “Remember me?”

 

Moody’s eyes widened before narrowing in anger, he strained against the bonds covering his mouth and body but to no avail. Barty stood up, turning towards Wormtail and lifting the spell freezing him in place.

 

Wormtail slowly got up off the floor, stretching out his muscles. He opened his mouth, presumably to speak, but Barty silenced him with a finger in the air and a stern look on his face. He moved the finger to his lips, hoping the bumbling idiot would get the picture, and strained his ears. Sirens. He swore under his breath.

 

“Some bloody muggle phoned the police. Quick, hide.”

 

Wormtail started in several different directions, then looked back to Barty, slow smile spreading on his face. He began shrinking, his pointed nose and shrewd eyes becoming more pronounced as he took on the familiar form of a rat, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. The rat cocked his head to the side before darting under the couch.

 

Barty rolled his eyes then kicked the clothes underneath the couch as well, hoping they would hit the stupid rat in the face. The shuffling behind him drew his attention. Moody was trying yet again to struggle against the bonds, still not managing to wiggle free. Barty crouched down in front of him, maniacal gleam in his eyes. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.” He pointed his wand at Moody’s face, feeling the rush of power flow through his body. He would take special joy out of performing this particular curse, after being under its influence himself for so long. He flicked his wrist, sirens coming closer as he hissed, “Imperio.”

 

He watched the curse spread over Moody, the other man slowly relaxing in his bonds. A slightly glazed look came into his one good eye. Barty’s tongue flicked out, and he stood up, towering over the hunched figure. He removed the bonds, silently ordering Moody to rise. After the ropes vanished the older man got to his feet, standing in place, slightly swaying back and forth.

 

He stood directly in front of Moody, gaze boring into his eye. He needed to be sure Moody followed his next order to a T, otherwise the whole plan would go up in smoke. It would not do to upset the Dark Lord. He put all his commanding power into silently instructing Moody to talk to the police, and anyone else that happened to arrive, as if nothing was wrong, blame the incident on some bloody teenagers. He wasn't particular as long as there was no mention of him or Wormtail. The other man nodded then sank down on the couch, waiting for the police to come to the door.

 

Barty recast his disillusionment charm and searched for a place to hide. Once the authorities were gone, he would make the polyjuice potion and gather the belongings he needed to complete his disguise. Hogwarts would welcome him with open arms. And he knew just where to stuff Moody for the duration.

 

…..

 

Rose stood, staring at the name plate. Arthur Weasley. _The_ Arthur Weasley. She pinched herself on the arm. Nope, not dreaming. Idly she wondered if she would get to meet Harry Potter. She shook her head, slight smile on her face. If, no, not if...when she got the Doctor out of whatever mess he had landed himself into this time, if she still hadn’t met the Boy Who Lived, well, she knew what they would be doing before she returned to Pete’s World.

 

The thought of Pete’s World sobered her wandering daydreams. She needed to focus. There really wasn’t much more to this room than what she had first observed. It was more the size of a closet, the desks crowded closer together to make room for the TARDIS. She had to be somewhere within the Ministry of Magic. Well, that was just fantastic. How was she supposed to get herself _and_ the TARDIS out of here? The TARDIS might have to wait...she really didn’t like that thought. Not that she was worried about something happening to the TARDIS. She knew the TARDIS could handle herself, even in her current condition. But she had started to think of the time ship as home base, some place she could safely retreat to in order to think and strategize.

 

Foot steps echoed through the hallway beyond the office door. Quickly, Rose ducked back into the TARDIS, leaving the door open just a crack. She waited, the person approaching might not even come into this room. But if they did she would get a good view of them without them even noticing her.

 

The footsteps paused outside the office, then slowly the door creaked open. The figure muttered something and light filled the room. The person turned around to close the door, holding their hand flush against it for just a moment. Rose took in their appearance. It appeared to be a man, different hues of dark green clothing matched some sort of hat atop his fading ginger hair. He slowly turned around, pinching the bridge of his nose. Rose stifled a gasp. She had read the name plate, but seeing him right in front of her was something altogether different, something extremely surreal. She was staring at Arthur Weasley.

 

He began to move about the office, shuffling over to his desk, muttering something about ruddy police bins under his breath. She debated for only a second before stepping out of the TARDIS, exposing herself and praying that everything she had read about this man would prove to be true.

 

Arthur plopped down in his chair, stomach pressed tightly against the desk in the even more confined space. He looked up at her, mouth falling open and eyes bulging slightly. She stared at him, with what she hoped was a friendly expression. Her heart was hammering in her chest, still hoping the books hadn’t got it backwards and that the man before her was really a Death Eater about to kill her on the spot. He blinked once, seeming to slightly recover. “Good lord, where did you come from?”

 

Rose released the breath she had been holding, relaxing her shoulders and pointing behind her with a small smile on her face. “In there.”

 

He looked at the TARDIS, blinked, then brought his attention back to her. “Did you really?”

 

“Yup,” she said, popping the ‘p’ and unintentionally reminding herself of the Doctor. She frowned, then shook her head. Now wasn't the time.

 

"Have you been in there the whole time?" He squeezed himself out of his chair, coming closer to Rose and eyeing the blue police box.

 

"Er, yeah. Look, I don't mean to be rude but I need your help. I'm looking for my..." For her what? They had never exactly quantified their relationship. They were more than friends, so much more, but not quite lovers either. She sighed. "For my friend. I need to get out of here, with the, um, with the police box. But I don't think I'm supposed to be here, so I highly doubt I could just walk out the front door, even if I knew where that was."

 

He studied her carefully, eyebrow slightly raised in suspicion. It hit her what kind of spectacle she must be, standing there in her dimension hopping uniform and draped in the Doctor’s coat. "Why should I trust you? How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?"

 

Rose bit her bottom lip, trying to remember any tiny detail she could relate to him and earn his trust without giving away future events. Sirius? She opened her mouth then snapped it shut, she had thought that would work but now she wasn't sure. No, at this point Arthur might not know about Sirius's innocence, and she was fairly certain he didn't hear that bit of information from a blonde. 

 

"If you can't at least try I'm going to have to turn you into the authorities." He started to force his way to the door around the tightly packed furniture.

 

"No!" She stepped towards him, arms outstretched, her outburst causing him to jump slightly. "Sorry, just give me a moment." Judging from what she had seen before being carted away in the TARDIS, the Quidditch World Cup had just taken place...before that he would have had to go get Harry and...She snapped her fingers, pointing at him in her excitement. "You think of Harry as one of your own. You couldn't believe his own blood would see him off without so much as saying goodbye. You stood up to his uncle, insisting he tell _his_ nephew goodbye." 

 

Arthur listened to her with wide eyes, but remained silent. 

 

She pressed on. "George...no, Fred. Yeah, Fred. He dropped one of his magic toffees or what have you, causing Dudley's tongue to grow another four feet." Rose laughed at the mental image, remembering how she felt justice had been served when she had first read that bit in the book. "The family went completely mental before they finally let you sort it out."

 

Arthur's mouth was hanging open now. Rose knew he had kept that particular incident between himself and his family, afraid of it getting to someone in the Ministry. There was no way she should have known any of those details.

 

"How-how did you know that?" His eyes narrowed, darting between her and the TARDIS.

 

"I don't know if I can tell you that. I'm not sure how much of anything I can say really. But I _need_ you to trust me. It's very important that I find who I'm looking for. Please"

 

He clicked his jaw, internally debating with himself. Rose could practically see the gears turning in his head. Slowly he nodded, giving her a warm genuine smile. "Alright, leave it to me. You need to get back in there." He pointed at the TARDIS, waiting for her to indicate she agreed.

 

“But--”

 

“Please. You’re asking me to trust you, all I ask is that you trust me in return.”

 

Rose nodded then stepped inside the time ship. She waited by the doors, hands and one ear pressed against the wood, listening. She thought she heard the shuffling of paper before silence descended once again. Rose shifted on her feet, her whole body itching to move, hating standing still and doing nothing but wait.

 

She heard the click of the office door as it opened and then shut, followed by an unfamiliar voice. “Weasley, what’s this about wanting to take another muggle object home?”

 

“Ah yes, the police box here. I need to get home, my kids start school today. Barty wanted me to take a look at this as soon as possible and make sure no one jinxed it. I’ll be able to take a better look at it from home anyway, where I’ll have more space.” She couldn’t see his face, but his voice sounded calm and confident.

 

“Oh alright, I’ll take care of the paper work. You go on home.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

After several moments of hearing some kind of activity beyond the walls of the TARDIS, she felt the familiar shake of being moved. There was nothing she could do now, her fate was in Arthur’s hands for the time being. She walked up the ramp and over to the jump seat, trailing her hand lightly along the console as she passed it by. She exhaled loudly and sat down, looking at the time rotor, still casting the only light in the room. “Not long now, hopefully.”

She tried, without much success, to keep from thinking about the body just down the hall. She shivered, pulling the Doctor’s coat tightly around her. She closed her eyes, breathing in the heady scent of spice and time...and her forever.


	6. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you guys thought I forgot about this, didn't you? Ha! Nope! I hope to get back into a more regular updating schedule with this. So, thank you for being so patient. And huge thank you to my beta, yearn4themoon.

Living with the Weasley's had been a large mixture of excitement and irritation. It was surreal and amazing, like living in a dream. But it was also a sign that she was no closer to finding the Doctor. The TARDIS was still a wreck and Rose wasn't sure what to do to help. She mentally cursed the Doctor for not teaching her more about the workings of the time ship. She also kicked herself for not asking him herself.

Granted she had only been at their house half a day, so she couldn't really say she was living there. But Molly had insisted Rose stay, for as long as she needed. Molly Weasley was even more kind and warm hearted in person than Rose had expected. There was also an underlying fierceness in her that Rose greatly admired. And a stubbornness that matched her own.

That stubbornness was how Rose found herself in Diagon Alley. Molly had refused to let Rose sit around the house, saying that an outing was just the distraction she needed. Rose hadn't told her the details of what was going on, just that she was looking for someone, but could tell Molly knew there was more to it than that. Rose was glad she hadn’t asked though. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Molly, she just wasn’t ready to open up about it yet. Especially when she wasn’t even sure what was going on. Only that the Doctor needed her...and the universe needed him.

So here she was, Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth, standing in Diagon Alley with wide eyed wonder. Wizards of various shapes and sizes mulled in the street. Rose was overwhelmed with the sights and sounds, evidence of magic all around her. Molly had gone off to get the things she needed, letting Rose wander to whatever drew her attention the most. Currently, she stood out front of Ollivanders, the wand maker's shop.

She looked in the window, debating. There was no way she would actually be able to do magic. But when would she get another chance to hold a real wand in her hand? Probably never. She had been too afraid to ask to see one of the Weasley's. They had been nothing but kind and accommodating, trusting her when they had no reason to do so. Asking to hold something so personal and important, just to satisfy her own curiosity, was too much.

Knowing Molly would easily be able to find her, her attire made her stick out like a sore thumb, she stepped inside the shop. The bell tinkled overhead as the door closed softly behind her. Her wide eyes took in everything, the situation feeling oddly surreal. She had seen aliens that defied imagination, crossed galaxies with the push of a button. But this...this was her childhood dream world brought to life.

The lighting was a bit dim, only adding to the magical feel of the place. Rows upon rows of shelves with boxes containing wands lined the walls. Aisles bursting with even more boxes extended to the back of the shop beyond what the eye could see. High backed chairs with matching ottomans, covered in a deep green velvet, sat to her left. A counter sat a little ways in front and to her right. It was littered with papers, odds and ends, and more boxes. Two wands sat outside their boxes, tempting her.

Rose looked around the room, no one else was around. Whoever was working must be in the very back of the store. Approaching the counter, she called out, "Hello? Anyone here?"

Her voice echoed down the aisles then back to her ears. She drummed her fingers on the counter, eyes drawn to the pair of wands laying out in the open. Her hand itched to reach out, wanting to pick one up just to feel the weight in her hand.

"Hello?" Rose called out again. Her voice drifted down the empty aisles, this time swallowed up by the darkness at their ends.

They wouldn't be left out in the open if they weren't meant for to be touched. She picked up the nearest one, broad grin covering her face. Something stirred within her, a faint humming in her veins. Waiting till a passerby had walked out of sight, wanting no one to see, she held the wand out, pointing at a stray piece of parchment. She said the first words that popped into mind, just as a joke, living out a long forgotten daydream. 

"Wingardium Leviosa,” she pronounced dramatically, over enunciating each syllable.

Energy flowed down her arm and through her fingertips, funneling into the wand. The paper shook then lifted two inches off the counter, hovering for an instant before bursting into flame.

She gasped, dropping the wand onto the counter, eyes wide in disbelief. No, no, no. How...?

"Why didn't you say you needed a new wand?"

Rose spun around, Molly was standing just within the doorway, hands on her hips.

Rose hadn't heard her come in, didn't recall hearing the bell jingle. She shook her head. "I-I didn't...I don't...I _shouldn't_ be able to do that."

"Not like that.” Molly shook her head, smiling. “You need one that suits you."

"No, that's not what I mean." She shook her head slightly. "I can't, shouldn't be able to do magic. I've never..." She trailed off not sure what to say, how to explain. She laughed as she stepped closer to the other woman. She whispered between her teeth, "Molly, I'm a muggle."

Molly grinned mischievously, brushing past her and over to the counter. "There's only one way to tell, dear."

"But I shouldn't be able to. I never got a letter, or anything." Rose followed Molly back to the counter, still protesting the direction things seemed to be heading.

"Mistakes happen." She leaned over the counter, peaking between the aisles in much the same way Rose had done earlier. She huffed. "He's never around when you need him, it's a wonder people ever get their wands." Molly put one hand to her mouth, inhaling deeply then releasing her breath in a sharp whistle.

Rose flinched, the piercing sound ringing in her ears. A loud crash came from the back of the shop, followed by several smaller thumps, probably boxes of wands cascading to the floor.

An older man dressed in a dark, slightly ragged coat and a button up shirt that used to be white underneath, the sleeves puffing out past the cuffs of his coat. He had a faded plaid scarf, or the remains of one, wrapped around his neck. His shock white hair stuck up in every direction, reminding Rose of a late Albert Einstein. He emerged from the depths of an aisle, grumbling and brushing himself off.

"Ah, Molly. Didn't expect to be seeing you here. Ready to give Ronald his own wand?" His voice was raspy, a mysterious quality matching the intriguing sparkle in his silver eyes.

Molly bristled at the thinly veiled insult, but kept her tone even and calm, forcing smile on her round face. "It's not for me, Garrick." She stepped to the side, exposing Rose to the man's intense scrutiny.

Rose held her chin high, watching Ollivander take in her unusual appearance, well unusual for Diagon Alley she supposed. Although, in the wizarding world there might not be such a thing. Finally, he looked at her face.

"And who might you be?" He inquired.

"Rose. Rose Tyler." She kept her voice smooth and confident, even though she felt nervous.

"Ah, Miss Tyler.” His eyes flashed with recognition. “I've been waiting for you."

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

He smiled at her knowingly, tapping the side of his nose. With a wink he disappeared down an aisle.

Rose grabbed Molly's arm, trying to keep her voice calm as she whispered hurriedly. "What does he mean by that? I've never been here. I don't know anyone who's ever--" She cut herself short, the thought of the Doctor waiting for her, hiding away in a magic shop, too far fetched for her to hope for.

Molly patted Rose's hand. "He's like that, dear. Don't fret, eventually it'll come to light. He has an air for the mysterious. Properly scared poor Harry on his first visit." She chuckled to herself, turning back around as the sound of Ollivander's returning footsteps reached her ears.

"Here we are. Holly, Phoenix feather at the core, rather flexible, yet remarkably sturdy, 10.5 inches." He angled the long box in his fingertips to read something written across the top, nodding to himself in satisfaction. "For one, Rose Tyler. My Big Bad Wolf." He arched an eyebrow, but didn't comment, as he opened the box.

"What did you call her?" Molly's question barely registered in Rose's mind.

Rose's heart had stopped, her vision blurred, breath coming in painful short gasps. Bad Wolf. It had to be him, there was no other explanation. She had to be sure.

"Oh, not me. It's written on the case. I--"

Slamming her hand down on the counter, startling Molly and Ollivander, Rose stared hard at the older man, fighting the hope desperately trying to burst through her chest. "Who wrote that?"

"It was a young gentleman.” Ollivander looked away for a moment, remembering and nodding his head before continuing. “Tall. Dark brown hair, like he had stuck his finger in one of those muggle electrical sockets. Blue suit. Nice fellow, talked an awful lot though. Never did get his name."

It all sounded like the Doctor, except the blue suit part. She had never seen him in anything other than the brown pinstripes. Part of her wondered what else he had changed, how long it had been for him. The rest of her still doubted. It couldn't have been him.

She swallowed audibly. "Can--may I see the box?"

He nodded, holding onto the wand as he handed her the empty box. She took it gingerly, holding her breath as she took in the familiar writing, tracing a circular symbol she knew to be Gallifreyan in one of the corners. She had seen him write it several times before, but had never gotten him to tell her what it meant. She let her fingers dance over the letters of her name. Her heart soared, he had been here.

"You knew him then?" Ollivander's question sounded more like a statement, something he knew but was being polite in confirming it.

She looked up at Ollivander and nodded in response. "How long ago did he leave this?"

"Oh, long time. Must have been...at least ten years ago now."

She choked. "What? That, that can't be right."

"I'm fairly good with faces and these sorts of things, Miss Tyler. I am correct." He stared at her, the hard look in his eyes telling Rose all she needed to know.

"Right, sorry. It's just...never mind." She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath and trying to ground herself. Her gut reaction had been to assume the Doctor had been here, in whatever mess he had gotten himself into, for those ten years. Which wasn't an impossibility, but it wasn't the only option either. He was a time traveler after all. She took several calming breaths, releasing the tight grip she had on the box.

Molly gently touched her arm. "You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." It was a lie. But she had learned from the best. She was always fine. Slipping the mask back in place, she turned her attention back to the wand maker. "Thank you."

"You're welcome.” He paused, looking at her in concern. “Don't you want to try it? He was very adamant about the specifications, but I would rather you test it in my presence. Make sure it meets your needs."

Rose looked frantically between Molly and Ollivander. Objection died on her lips as she reread his note, 'My Big Bad Wolf'. Maybe, just maybe...

With a new determination burning in her veins, she held out her hand to Ollivander. He placed the thin piece of wood in her hand. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her fingers around the wand. A comforting warmth spread throughout her body, power and energy humming in her veins. It was intoxicating. 

Slowly opening her eyes, she pointed the wand at another piece of parchment lying on the counter. Molly gasped and Ollivander made a startled choking sound. Rose ignored them, determined to do it right this time.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she whispered, swishing her wand.

The parchment convulsed and for a moment Rose thought this one would combust as well. Instead it jerked into the air, before floating gently. She aimed her wand higher, a delighted grin blooming across her face as the thin paper rose higher. She directed it back and forth a couple times before guiding it back to its resting place on the counter.

Rose giggled excitedly. Her laughter died when she took in the shocked expressions of the two wizards in the room.

"What?" Rose asked Molly. "I thought you said it was possible..."

"It's not that..." Molly shook her head, casting a quick glance at Ollivander.

"Well...then what's wrong?" Rose furrowed her brow, not understanding why Molly was so concerned.

"Your eyes, dear. They were gold...and glowing."

Rose dropped the wand to the counter. It couldn't be. He said he had removed it. He had promised. Two words rang in her mind.

_Bad Wolf_.

.....

Rain fell harder, pelting his coat and the top of his pale thinning hair, only adding to the discomfort he felt in this body. His skin itched, as if it didn't fit quite right. His senses were dulled and the movements of his legs a bit sluggish. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the castle looming in the distance. Rolling his shoulders, he tightened his grip on the twisted wooden cane. Despite his discomfort, excitement buzzed in his veins. He was one step closer to Hogwarts, one step closer to Harry Potter, one step closer to proving his worth to the Dark Lord. Barty would prevail where all others had failed.

He would deliver Harry Potter to Voldemort.


	7. Human Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, again, for the delay on the update. I have had a hell of a time figuring out how to move things from A to B. Huge thank you to my beta, yearn4themoon, for the help she has been in getting me there.

After the initial shock had dissipated, Rose had given Ollivander a curt thank you and excused herself from the store. She was in Diagon Alley and had just found out she could perform magic to some degree...but she couldn't enjoy any of it. There were still too many questions and not nearly enough answers. 

Her body thrummed with energy and overwhelming emotions, pushing and pulling her in every direction. To avoid being ripped apart, she buried it all down deep, locking it all away to deal with at a later time. Right now, she needed to be objective. Allowing herself the small gesture of running her thumb over the Gallifreyan symbol as she walked, Rose systematically searched the street for any other signs of the Doctor.

After an hour of walking from shop to shop with her nerves on edge, Rose plopped into a seat in the Leaky Cauldron. The place was quiet and dim, like her hopes of finding the Doctor. She had scoured every building on the street with no results. Unless he was holed up in some unknown vault within Gringotts, which she wouldn't put past him, he was no where to be found.

Her carefully constructed armor cracked a fraction as she buried her head in her hands, which were propped up on her elbows atop the rough wooden table. Despair clawed at her throat as thoughts of what would happen if she never found him jumped to the forefront of her mind. Not just from being unable to find him in _this_ place, in _this_ time...but in the grand scheme of things. The universe needed him, she couldn't fix this problem on her own. Whatever was causing the stars to go out, the Doctor would be able to fix it.

She had gotten good at hiding her emotions, even from herself. Too good some might say, especially Jackie. But she did what she needed to in order to get the job done, in order to push forward with her life. She may not be completely happy, but she wasn't going to squander the gift of being alive by wallowing in self pity. Still...there were moments. Moments so painful she felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. Moments when she wanted nothing more than to curl up and drown in her tears. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, Rose attempted to numb herself to the pain.

"You alright, dear?" A soft voice drifted through the haze in Rose's mind as a figure sat down on the opposite side of the table.

Rose looked up slowly, her vision swimming, moisture pooling in her eyes, as the concerned face of Molly Weasley came into focus. She swallowed and nodded at the older woman, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear before folding her hands in her lap like a nervous child. Rose stared at her hands, clutching to the box of her wand like a lifeline, while she inwardly scrambled to put her mask back in place.

"Who is he?"

"What?" Rose choked out, her eyes snapping to Molly's face. She gripped the box tighter, fingers absently brushing over the Doctor's handwriting, seeking comfort in familiarity.

"The man you're looking for," Molly stated, her tone soft yet firm in the knowledge that she was correct.

"I don't...I'm not..." Rose sputtered, trying to come up with something, anything, to keep from having this conversation.

"Rose, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” Molly assured quickly. “I may not know you, but I know young love when I see it." She gave a warm smile as Rose stared at her with wide eyes.

"You probably wouldn't believe me," Rose muttered, shaking her head and fiddling with the box. "Even if I did tell you."

"I'm a witch, in a world full of muggles," Molly said with a small laugh, her eyes sparkling. "I just might surprise you."

"Even if I told you that the man I'm looking for is an alien from a place and time that no longer exists?" Rose asked with an arched eyebrow. She was trying to talk herself out of confessing anything as much as she was trying to deter the other woman. 

Molly snorted and shook her head, holding back a giggle. "I’ve heard stranger things from Fred and George, the twins.” She paused, her humor fading back into concern. “It might make you feel better to talk."

Rose floundered for a moment, her jaw twitching as she tried to decide how to respond. She had gotten so used to bottling everything inside, trying to appear strong for those that _did_ know more about her history with the Doctor. She wasn't sure she remembered how to unload her emotional baggage, how to let someone else in. Molly meant well, and Rose knew she had a heart of gold...but it was better for all involved if nothing was discussed. Rose was better than this, stronger than this. She had been through worse things with the Doctor and plenty of horrors on her own. Why was this proving so difficult? Her mind wandered unbidden to the cold, lifeless body still aboard the TARDIS. She bit back a sob and willed her emotions to remain stable.

"You don't have to do this alone, love." Molly leaned forward, her face slightly shadowed by the dim atmospheric lighting, but her genuine sympathy and care shined fully in her features.

Rose's armor crumpled to the ground, leaving her feeling bare and vulnerable. She lifted a hand to the table, picking at a bit of wood in attempt to distract herself. But it was too late. Tears burned at her eyes and words tumbled from her lips. She tried to keep the story short and concise. At first the tale came haltingly and painfully. She fought through tears falling down her cheeks and a fire burning in her chest. She had nearly composed herself, the happy memories bringing a fond smile to her face. But then came the Cybermen and the Daleks, then came Torchwood and parallel worlds. Then came the beach. Bad Wolf Bay. The place where her heart had finally shattered into a million pieces, knowing that she would never be able to see him again. The place she had choked out her last words to him, words that tasted like the salt of the sea instead of the salt of his skin, the way they were meant to be said. Still, she was glad that she told him. That he could carry that with him in his hearts, even if she would never hear it returned.

Things took a turn for the worst when they noticed the darkness. The stars going out. Planets vanishing from the sky. She had bandaged her heart by locking it away and throwing herself into her work. The only true joy she had found was playing with her younger brother. Those times became few and far between with the development of the dimension cannon. The universe, all of time and space, was in peril. They needed the Doctor.

Omitting the discovery of Barty’s body entirely, Rose told Molly of how she found the TARDIS and ended up at the Ministry of Magic. And how Arthur had been extremely kind and trusting by helping her escape.

"And then the wand...I know it was him. There's no other explanation. And the words...Bad Wolf. They always lead me back to him. But, what if I can't this time? What if I'm too late?" Rose bit her lip, looking down at the table and fighting back more tears. Molly reached across the table, covering Rose's hand with her own and giving a gentle squeeze, ceasing the nervous drumming Rose had been doing with her fingers.

"You'll find him, dear," Molly soothed.

"How can you be so certain?" Rose brought her gaze up, searching the older woman's face for some hint of a lie or uncertainty.

"He trusted you to make it this far?"

"Well...yeah," she replied, furrowing her brow. 

"Then I would imagine he trusts you to find him in the end."

"But..." Rose tried to search for an argument, coming up short. Molly was proving to be a master when it came to mixing steely resolve with warm compassion. Which was just what she needed if she was being honest with herself.

"If the man you love, the man needed to save the entire universe trusts you to find him..." Molly trailed off, letting her words sink in. "Then trust yourself."

Rose couldn't help but smile. Molly was right. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would find the Doctor.

.....

After arriving back at the Burrow (god was that weird to think about) Rose wanted to go check on the TARDIS. They had placed the time ship in the Weasley's backyard since there wasn't really enough room amongst the clutter inside. Rose had managed to convince Molly to keep their conversation at the Leaky Caldron a secret. While Molly didn't like keeping secrets from her husband, she understood it wasn't her story to tell. And Rose promised she would come clean in due time, she just needed to try and work some things out first.

She walked through the grass, nearly tripping over a scurrying garden gnome, and smiled as the welcome sight of the TARDIS peeking out from underneath some tree branches came into view. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, the blue wood nestled in the rustling green of the leaves. It felt like home. Living with her mum and the rest of her family in Pete's World had felt like home enough, but she never truly settled in. Nothing would ever feel as warm and welcoming as the time ship that spun amongst the stars.

She shook her head, that wasn't entirely true. She loved the TARDIS, loved the life she had when living on it, but it wasn't the sentient ship that made her feel at home. It was the driver, although that skill was often called into question. Rose would never be one to roll over and give up on life just because she couldn't be with a bloke, that just wasn't her. But she couldn't deny how much she missed him, how much her heart ached from being apart, how much she missed his arms around her. He made her feel complete and their separation wasn't exactly under normal circumstances. As much as she hated the reasons for the start of the dimension canon project, she was selfishly grateful for the opportunity to see him again.

Sighing, she leaned her forehead against one of the doors, only the faintest of hums tickling the edge of her mind. The whole endeavor brought on a full mixture of emotions, one of the strongest being guilt. The nature of her relationship with the Doctor wasn't the reason Pete had let her lead the project, but that didn't stop a handful of coworkers from saying otherwise. They muttered seething jabs about the Vitex heiress and her outer space boyfriend in hushed tones or behind her back. She grit her teeth, shoving the doubts and the guilt to the back recesses of her mind. Those thoughts wouldn't help her, and she had her work cut out for her. She kept finding more pieces to a puzzle that she didn’t know had been missing in the first place, tediously trying to fit them together without knowing the bigger picture.

"So what exactly is this thing?" The now familiar voice of Arthur Weasley cut into her reverie, snapping her back into Torchwood mode. “What do muggles use these police boxes for?”

Rose turned to face him, an idea forming in her mind. She was fairly certain that if anyone would truly enjoy what lay beyond the blue doors it would be Arthur Weasley. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the time ship, unintentionally slipping into the role of the Doctor, made even more apparent by the fact that she was still wearing his coat. She hadn’t been able to take it off just yet, drawing strength from it as if it were actually him there with her instead of an empty article of clothing.

“This one isn’t exactly muggle material,” she hedged, gauging his reaction.

“Oh?” Arthur eyed the box then looked back at her. “What is it then? Looks like a muggle’s police box…”

“That’s just a disguise.” She paused, biting her lip. “Would you like to see? The inside, I mean.”

“Could I?” His eyes lit up, making him look years younger, an eager expression on his face.

Rose couldn’t help the warm smile she gave in return. “Course, c’mon.” She jerked her head towards the doors before turning to open them, pulling the key from beneath her t-shirt. She pushed the door open and gingerly stepped inside. The TARDIS hummed gently in her mind, a welcome reassurance after the events of the day. It was still dim in the console room, the orange lights barely allowing one to see their footing. She needed to find out what was wrong with the old girl, and soon. She smiled fondly, trailing her hand along the railing as she walked halfway up the ramp and turned around to wait for Arthur.

Arthur squeezed through the open door, the brighter light from outdoors silhouetting his features for a moment before he was all the way inside. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in awe. He slowly stepped forward, craning his head in every direction, taking it all in.

Rose crossed her arms and planted her feet apart on the grating, fighting a smug smile as she realized she was echoing the posture her first Doctor had taken when she entered the TARDIS for the very first time. She dug her fingers into her current Doctor’s coat as her heart constricted at the memory. Part of her found it odd to be acting so much like him, mostly it felt natural.

“It’s bigger on the inside,” Arthur stated as he brought his attention back to her.

“Yup,” she replied, popping the ‘p” and smiling widely. He wasn’t as stunned as she had been, but then again...wizard.

“Is this some sort of undetectable extension charm?” he asked, looking around the room again with narrowed eyes. He walked to the nearest coral strut, poking at it experimentally.

“Um, not exactly.” Rose wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about, but she assumed he was asking if the size difference was due to a wizard’s spell.

“Then how does it work?” he marveled, resting his ear against the strut and stroking it lightly with his hand.

“Not sure actually,” she replied, fighting a giggle. “She’s not exactly mine.” There was a buzz of irritation in her mind. _Sorry, old girl...didn’t want to assume,_ she thought to the ship. The TARDIS hummed happily in response, making Rose smile.

“It’s a bit dim in here,” Arthur commented, squinting to prove his point as he brushed past Rose heading towards the console.

“It’s not usually this dark,” she replied with a frown, slowly following him but her eyes scanned the walls. “Something’s wrong with her. Haven’t had a chance to figure out what.” She pulled her focus back to the fading red head standing just in front of the console, his hands reaching out. “Don’t touch anything,” she snapped, hurrying after him. He was like a kid in a candy shop, she could she his fingers twitching from excitement. She shook her head. “Well, don’t _move_ anything.”

He turned back to her for the briefest of moments, and the genuine smile on his face made this all worth it. Things would only get harder for Arthur and his family over the next couple years. A lump formed in her throat as she thought about the loss they would endure. She almost wished the Doctor hadn’t surprised her by buying the books from her future, just because she was impatient. Book seven had them both crying like babies and she had spent that evening cuddled up to him beneath her duvet. There was no way the books were 100% accurate, but an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach told her there were certain things that would always remain a fact.

She pushed those dark thoughts aside and focused on the awe and excitement clearly written all over Arthur’s face. His hands flitted along the console as he jumped and weaved around the entire thing, muttering the whole time about what each switch, each knob could possibly be for.

Rose cleared her throat after several minutes and Arthur snapped his head up to look at her, blinking several times as if he had forgotten who she was.

“Right. Sorry, guess I got carried away.” He shifted on his feet, eyes flitting from her to the console and back again, clearly itching to inspect it some more.

“S’alright,” she replied with a giggle. “Happens all the time.”

“It’s just...everything seems so... _futuristic_. Yet right here, there’s a silly old fob watch.”

Rose frowned. She didn’t remember there ever being a fob watch on the console. She walked over to where Arthur was standing and sure enough, cradled in a narrow slot was an old silver watch. Well, that was new. She swore that had never been there in all her time on the TARDIS. Under any other circumstances, she would have brushed it off. After all, she didn’t know the details of how the ship worked anyway. The fob could be a completely valid piece of equipment. In this scenario...she wanted to take a closer look.

“Arthur,” she mused, putting on what she hoped was a sincere smile, “You know...there are loads of other things to see on this ship. More rooms than you can imagine, each and every one is unique. You’re more than welcome to explore if you like.”

“That sounds brilliant,” he chirped, with eyes sparkling as bright as his smile. His grin slipped for an instant. “Hang on, if there are so many rooms...how will I be sure to find my way back?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she reassured. “Just...think about finding me and you will. Ship’s a bit sentient, sort of, er, telepathic.”

“Good lord, is she really?” He jerked back, looking all around the room. He looked more shocked than afraid, but Rose supposed it would be better to put him at ease.

“Don’t worry, she’s not going to steal your thoughts or anything. It’s really quite helpful.” Rose looked at the sickly green time rotor and stroked the console fondly, hoping to soothe whatever aches were lurking in the time ship’s system. The Doctor had really done a number on her.

“Right. Well, I am a wizard after all. No telepathic police box is going to frighten me.” He gave Rose a wink then walked off down the hall, the TARDIS providing light for him as he went.

Once he was a safe distance away, Rose brought her attention back to the fob watch. She crouched down, the Doctor’s coat billowing out around her. It didn’t seem like anything special, just a worn down silver pocket watch. What the bloody hell was it doing wedged into the console? She stood back up, weighing the pros and cons of what would potentially happen if she attempted to remove it.

She brushed her fingers over the cool metal, an odd whispering tickling her ears. Before she could work out what it was and where it was coming from, the soft orange lighting snuffed out. The time rotor was the only remaining light source. Rose yanked her hand from the watch, body tensing despite the familiar environment. A blue glimmer to the left caught her attention. Turning towards the bright spot, her heart dropped to her feet and her legs almost gave out.

It was him. The Doctor. Standing tall in his pinstriped suit, his hands thrust into his pockets. His hair was slightly longer, a little more wild than when she had last seen him. Her fingers longed to run through his brown locks, trace his sideburn, then dance over his cheek. She stepped closer as the image tried to stabilize. Without thinking, she lifted her arm as if to cup his face.

_No touch._

This was like Bad Wolf Bay all over again. His words ringing in her ears and slicing deep in what was left of her heart. She let her hand fall awkwardly to the side. No...not quite like the beach. Worse. This was a nightmare. This was the beach and the game station all wrapped into one.

Proving her point, the hologram steadied out and the Doctor’s voice washed over her.

"This is Emergency Program 425. If you've found this, then the TARDIS trusts you with what I'm about to say. I'm dead. Well, not dead in the technical sense. My body is still out there...somewhere. Probably. But it's not me. For all intents and purposes, the Doctor is dead. And I'd thank you to leave it that way. If I've used this program, that means I've used the chameleon arc to turn myself human. I'm an entirely new person. I won't even know the Doctor exists. Don't try and find me. I don't want to be found. I don't want...This has been a last resort. The universe will be a better place without me...with the state I'm in, ever since...anyway. Leave the TARDIS, she'll be fine. She'll die slowly, and no one will be the wiser. Again, I'm begging you, whoever you are, do _not_ find me. I'll be fine, and if not…” There was a small hesitation and Rose didn't miss the way his eyes skittered to the side or the unsteady rise of his chest. “That's probably for the best."

He gave a curt nod and the image cut out. Rose felt tears prick her eyes and her chest ached with the effort to keep breathing. So he _had_ made himself human? What did he mean by new person? _Don’t find him?_ Not bloody likely. But what the hell had happened to him since she had been ripped from him? Her head swirled with questions, making her dizzy. Sound was drowned out, replaced by a ringing in her ears. She leaned forward, clutching her temple between her hands, trying to get a hold of her emotions before she drowned.

“I don’t know who you are, but so far you have seemed like a very sweet girl, so I’m going to give you a chance to answer honestly before jumping to conclusions.” Arthur had reentered the console room, his eyes blazing and his wand pointed square at her chest.

Rose backed away, her hands in the air, slowly inching around the console to put some distance between them. Arthur was a good man, or she had thought he was. So either the books were all wrong or he had seen something to elicit this sudden spark of rage. She nodded her head, indicating she was listening.

“Why is the body of Barty Crouch Jr. inside your police box?” he growled, following Rose as she continued to try and keep space between them.

Shit.

“Arthur, I promise I can explain,” she replied evenly, trying to reassure him. “But, can we please discuss this with Molly?”

“No,” he snapped. “You are _not_ endangering my family. I demand answers.”

“I know what this looks like...or at least have a pretty good idea. But I promise you, whatever it is, it’s not what you think.”

“You are keeping a known Death Eater, why should I believe you?”

“Arthur, he’s dead. And he’s going to stay that way. I don’t want any more to do with Death Eaters than you do. But…” Rose took a deep breath. She hadn’t wanted to discuss this just yet, but she was backed into a corner and needed Arthur to trust her. “I’m looking for someone. And I’m not sure how, or why...but the man I’m looking for looks exactly like-like the body you found. If we could please talk about this with Molly. She can vouch for everything I’m saying.”

“Alright,” he said after a tense moment. “But you go first.”

Rose nodded quickly then turned towards the door. She could feel Arthur’s eyes on her as she headed down the ramp and that he had his wand still trained on her.

With Rose leading the way, they exited the TARDIS and headed straight for the Burrow’s kitchen. Rose carefully put her armor back in place. She would deal with the specifics of the Doctor’s situation later. And in private. Right now, if she was going to save him, if she was going to save the universe...she needed to be strong. Arthur and Molly deserved to know as much as she did, well, in regards to the Doctor. More than likely she would end up needing their help.


	8. The Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all for being so patient with this. And thank you to yearn4themoon for the beta.

Molly was already in the kitchen, busy with something in the sink, when they entered the back door. Turning around, she took one look at Arthur’s face and Rose saw concern immediately etch into her features.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Molly asked, stepping forward and wiping her hands on her apron.

"This girl has been keeping secrets from us," Arthur replied harshly with his wand still pointed at Rose's back.

Molly's faced softened, worry shining in her eyes as she looked between the two. "It's not what you think, Arthur."

"It's not is it?” he snapped. Even without looking, Rose could tell his anger was directed at her, not at Molly. “Then how else do you explain the body of a death eater ending up inside her police box?"

"What?” Molly gasped, focusing on Rose. “Rose...is that true?"

"Yes. But--"

"How could you?” Molly spat, her temper flaring for a moment. She took a calming breath, then looked at Rose sadly. “I believed you. Welcomed you into my home..."

"Molly, please", Rose pleaded, stepping towards the other woman. "It's not--"

"Stay put you!" Arthur growled, pressing the end of his wand into her back. Rose stopped mid stride, raising her hands in the air. She locked eyes with the older woman, fighting the wave of guilt as Molly looked at her with sad disapproval.

"Molly, I'm begging you.” Rose tried again. She had to get them to at least hear her out. “Listen to me. It's all true. Everything I told you is the truth."

"Then how do you explain _that_?” Molly held her arm out impatiently, gesturing in the vague direction of the TARDIS through the kitchen wall.

"In the pub, I left out one detail." Rose drew in a shaky breath, not wanting to relive the emotions she had felt upon her initial discovery. She felt the grief and the fear from thinking she had found the Doctor’s dead body, but it was now tinged with a wave of nausea. "When I first arrived, right before I saw the TAR--er, the police box, I stumbled across a body. A dead body."

"And you thought you would just stash him in your box did you?" Arthur sneered from behind her. Molly's eyes flicked to him for an instant before looking back to Rose.

"You have to understand,” Rose continued, ignoring Arthur’s outburst. She had to remember what times were like here, had to imagine how she would react if put in the same situation. “I had _no_ idea that he would actually...I mean, movies are one thing...but this..."

"Rose," Molly said in a warning tone, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sorry," Rose murmured while shaking her head. "I thought I had found the Doctor's body. It wasn't until I had already dragged him aboard the TARDIS and it was being taken, who knew bloody where at the time, it wasn't until after all that that I realized my mistake. By the time I figured out...who the body actually was, it was too late."

"What are you saying, dear?” Some of the harsh edge had seeped from her voice, yet Rose knew she wasn’t in the clear. There was a lot of explaining she still had to do. “You make it sound like they are the same person."

"That's just it. They aren't the same, but they _look_ the same. Eerily so. There are subtle differences, but for all intents and purposes, they are identical."

"So your Doctor, the man you're looking for...is the alien twin of a death eater?" Molly looked at her a bit skeptically, but some of the fire had left her eyes.

"Without actually being related, yeah." Rose clarified. Hopefully emphasizing there was no relation, just an unfortunate resemblance, would help them be more accepting.

"Molly, what are you on about?” Arthur asked in confusion. “Who is this Doctor person?"

Molly studied Rose carefully then nodded her head and switched her focus to her husband. "It's alright, love. You can lower your wand."

"You sure that’s a good idea?"

Rose held her breath, praying that Arthur would listen. Knowing he was a good man at heart was doing nothing to calm her nerves as the tip of his wand continued to dig into her back. Molly crossed the room, coming to place a hand on her husband’s arm.

"Yes,” Molly assured him firmly. There was a pause and then Rose felt the pressure between her shoulder blades vanish. She breathed out a sigh of relief and turned to face the two Weasleys. Molly gave her a gentle smile, her hand still on Arthur’s lowered arm. “Why don't we sit and talk it out? All of it." Molly directed the last sentence at Rose, who nodded in understanding. Her time to try and properly sort things out before talking to them was over.

"Right, I'll make us all some tea," Molly gave them both a cheery smile then bustled about the kitchen. 

Rose sat at the long table and tried to gather her thoughts into some sort of coherency that the couple would be able to understand. She was finding it a bit hard to focus as Arthur sat across from her, watching her like a hawk with his wand in easy reach in front of him.

Once Molly sat down with their mugs, she leaned towards Arthur and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, Arthur visibly relaxed and Rose did as well. With a nod and a smile from Molly, Rose took a deep breath and launched into the shortest version of her life with the Doctor that she had ever told.

Arthur listened in silence, but Rose could see light spark in his eyes and could tell he was refraining from asking questions as she told her story. She glossed over the regeneration, thankful that it didn’t seem to unsettle him as much as it would any other person, Molly had reacted the same way. She didn’t go into as much detail about what had happened at Torchwood as she had done with Molly, just that she had ended up trapped in the parallel world. Separated from the Doctor for forever. She related even less of Bad Wolf Bay, that pain still causing an acute ache in her heart. Arthur listened with rapt attention when she talked about parallel Torchwood and the dimension canon.

“Each jump is bringing me closer, I can feel it.” Rose shook her head. “I’ve never been as close as I am now. I’ve ran into a couple of past hims,” she said with a faint smile. “But not this him, not _my_ him.”

“You mean he’s changed his appearance more than once?” Arthur asked inquisitively.

“Yeah. I only traveled with him for two regenerations though. Bumping into prior versions has been unintentional.”

“How do you know it’s him then?” Arthur continued his inquiry, leaning closer as if afraid to miss some piece of information.

“He’s a bit hard to miss. Especially once you know what to watch for.” Rose released a heavy breath. “Not like it matters though. None of them were _my_ Doctor.”

“Oh, love,” Molly breathed. “If you’re going through all of this for him, I’d say every version is yours.”

Rose couldn’t help but beam in response, even as she corrected Molly. “But I’m not doing it just for him. I mean, yeah, I want more than anything to get back to him. But I’m doing this for everyone, for the whole universe. It needs saving, and I can’t do that on my own. We need him.”

“Like I said...every version belongs to you.” Molly gave Rose a knowing look and took a sip of her tea.

Rose shook her head, still smiling, then tried to refocus the conversation by turning to look at Arthur. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but--”

“Oh, no,” Arthur interrupted, “Rose, I believe you. But the fact still remains that you have a body of a well known Death Eater inside your...spaceship and on _my_ property.” He jabbed his index finger into the table as he spoke, each word growing louder and more forceful. “A Death Eater who had been presumed dead years before you found him. We have got to take this to the Ministry.”

“No!” Rose blurted, before taking a calming breath. “I know I keep asking you to do this without giving much in return, but you have _got_ to trust me. This will all be taken care of, and the Ministry will sort it out. Just...not now. Not yet.”

“How do you know all that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t possibly be sure of such things. Unless...wait, you said your ship could travel in time as well. Is that it? Is that how you know?”

She couldn’t tell them that she was basing her decisions off of a children’s book that had been turned into film, that would be asking too much of them. She nodded, feeling guilty for the small lie, but seeing no other option. The couple looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Her heart constricted in her chest, remembering the ability to have wordless exchanges with the Doctor, using nothing more than their eyes. She bit her lip harder than her usual habit, focusing on the physical pain while she waited.

“You’re lucky my wife trusts you as much as she does.” Arthur gave her a stern look, a unnecessary warning in his tone.

“Thank you.” She hoped her tone expressed just how grateful she was, she would take any help she could get. She may be in her original universe, and close to her own time, but being in the wizarding world...she might as well be in an entirely different galaxy. She rushed on in, needing to change topic before she gave in...or they asked anymore questions. “I need to go back inside the TARDIS, see if I can get her to give me any more information on what he’s done. Not sure how long that will take...he did something to her before changing. He damaged her...and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Could I take a look?” Arthur asked, all trace of hostility gone and replaced with bright enthusiasm.

“Er, thanks Mr. Weasley but I think--”

“Arthur,” he interrupted with a smile. “And I promise not to alter anything without consulting you first.”

“I really do appreciate the offer...but she’s a, well…” How did she explain something as complicated as the TARDIS when she didn’t even fully understand it herself? “She’s not a muggle item to tinker with.”

“Sorry,” he looked down at the table, pouting, “just thought I would try to help.”

Rose sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right...I could use the help. Just sort of used to doing things on my own, yeah?”

“We’re here to help,” Molly said, giving her a soft smile.

“Well, before we do that, there is one thing I would like in exchange. Now Molly,” Arthur insisted, sensing Molly’s demeanor switch from encouragement to objection, “just wait. I don’t want payment, it’s nothing like that. But I do have a request.” He fixed Rose with an intense stare. “We’ll keep this whole thing a secret, and I’ll do my best to field any inquiries that come through the Ministry, _if_ we take this to Barty Sr himself.”

“But Arthur, he’s the head of the Ministry...isn’t that sort of the same thing?” Molly asked. Rose took a small measure of comfort in the fact that Molly was taking her side. Yet...Arthur’s idea could prove useful.

“Barty is the one who sentenced his son to Azkaban,” Arthur reasoned, looking between the two women. “I seriously doubt he will want the fact that his son has been waltzing around bloody knows where when he was supposed to have been dead leaking to the public. There is no love between them, he would want to know.”

“And with him being the head of the Ministry, he might be able to help...or at least give me some new information…” Rose mused, biting her thumb nail. As much as she wanted to keep outside involvement kept at a minimum, she didn’t have a lot to go on at the moment. She needed every possible clue she could get.

“I’ll see what I can find out when I talk to him.” Arthur smiled, leaning back in his chair and picking up his mug.

“What?” Rose leaned forward, gripping her mug tightly in one hand. “No, hang on. I don’t mind you telling him, but _I_ want to be the one to ask him.”

“I really don’t think that’s a wise choice. Besides, he would have no reason to believe you.”

“Then I’ll have to be extra convincing,” Rose replied smoothly. “You’re a smart man, but you haven’t been...traveling the way I have. You may miss a key piece of information without knowing it.”

“I don’t think--”

“She’s right, Arthur.” Molly had watched the exchange silently, now voicing her opinion in a mediating tone. “Or at least let her go with you.”

Arthur looked from one woman to the other, each stubbornly staring back. He rolled his eyes with a slight shake of his head. “Oh, alright. If you could find out where he is, I’ll go assist Rose with her...police box.”

Molly nodded, her short red curls bouncing around her face as she kissed Arthur on the cheek then got up from the table. Rose and Arthur stared at each other across the table, an uneasy air settling around them.

“Thank you,” she murmured, toying with the handle of her mug.

Arthur beamed at her, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes. “Of course. Ready when you are.”

Rose gulped down the remains of her tea, sighing in contentment as the still warm liquid sloshed pleasantly in her stomach. Nothing like a good cuppa to recharge your batteries. What was it the Doctor had said? Tannins and free radicals? Rose smiled to herself.

“What is it?” Arthur asked curiously, wrinkling his forehead.

“The healing power of tea.” She winked and stood up from the table, trying not to giggle at his confused expression. Maybe one day she would have time to tell Arthur the regeneration story in detail...till then, back to the TARDIS. Same old life.

…..

This time Arthur investigated around the console room, not wanting to wander back down the corridor and chance another encounter with the Death Eater’s lifeless body. Rose couldn’t blame him. Thinking about it herself sent shivers down her spine. Between his natural predisposition for tinkering and Rose’s connection to the TARDIS, after several hours they were able to get more of the lighting to work. It was still dimmer than what she had been used to in her days of traveling with the Doctor, but the muted orange glow now touched every nook and corner of the room. Arthur gasped, looking around the console room in awe.

“This is magnificent,” he enthused after a moment. Rose chuckled at the shocked look that flitted over his face as the TARDIS communicated her thanks. His eyes were on the verge of popping out of his skull as he gave her a questioning look.

“Don’t ask me how she does it,” she supplied with a knowing smile. “I haven’t the foggiest. But she is brilliant.”

“I wish I could have done more than turn up the lights.”

“This is wonderful. Feels more like home.” Rose rested her hands on the console, watching the sickly green glow from the time rotor. “You’ll have more time to work with her I’m sure. She’s not exactly going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Really? That...that would be--”

“I insist,” she cut in, waving him off. “Besides...I think she likes you.”

He grinned proudly for a moment, awkwardly patting the railing. “I should go find Molly, see if she was able to get a hold of Barty.”

“Yeah, course. I’ll be along in a mo...just wanna...check some things…”she trailed off awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a teenager again. Trying to hide the real reason, but knowing she wasn’t succeeding.

He gave her a sad smile then turned and walked down the ramp and out the door, leaving her alone. It wasn’t as disturbing, now that the lights were nearly fully functional, but it wasn’t entirely comforting either. The lights bathed her in a warmth that barely pricked her skin, the unmoving and unusually silent time rotor setting her on edge. She plopped down on the jump seat, the exhaustion of the past few days stealing over her. She hadn’t been able to get much rest before this jump, she could never get calm enough to do so. Not when each jump could turn out to be “the one”. And then to end up in this mess...

Her layers weighed heavily on her shoulders, the combination of her blue leather and the Doctor’s tan coat becoming too much. She wanted nothing more than to lay on the jump seat and curl into a ball to sleep the rest of the day away. The Doctor’s bed would be more comfortable, but she wasn’t ready to handle that yet. Going by what he had done to the console room, his room was likely to be in the same state of disrepair. She had left toiletries in his bathroom...and clothes strewn about his floor, despite his constant reminder that he had a perfectly working closet. They hadn’t crossed the lines so carefully drawn between them, but it had seemed like only a matter of time once they had started sharing a room, _his_ room. Memories of their last day together, before everything was ripped apart, came bubbling to the surface.

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she tried to lock the memories away. Just once, she wished she could catch a break.

At least she had a goal to work for now, and hopefully she would get more needed answers from Barty Crouch Sr. Something about the name, some sliver of information tickled the edge of her mind. The more she tried to focus, the more it eluded her. Maybe the TARDIS had enough power to allow her into the library…

Rose reached out with her mind, a gentle bump to gauge the ship’s power. The library would be a good distraction, helping her do what she had become accustomed to. Throwing herself from one goal to the next, never stopping to look back. She sighed heavily, she was becoming more and more like the Doctor.

Before she could take that train of thought any further, a light from the display screen caught her eye and a familiar voice filtered to her ears. She scrambled off the jump seat, nearly tripping over her own feet. His hair was longer, but not as wild as the hologram from earlier, and his face looked drawn and tired. She listened intently as he spoke urgently to the screen.

“And twenty three. If anything goes wrong, if they find us, Martha, then you know what to do. Open the watch. Everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, I've put a perception filter on it so the human me won't think anything of it. To him, it's just a watch. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you, Martha. Your choice. Oh, and thank you.”

The screen paused, his face in a half smile. She reached out, tracing a finger where laugh lines should have crinkled around his eyes. The image was more realistic in a sense than the hologram, but it was still just that. Another image. No touch.

So he had done this before. Only it seemed to have been an emergency, an option he was forced into. Leaving his fate in the hands of someone named _Martha_. She couldn't fight the surge of jealousy rising up from the pit of her stomach and encompassing her heart.

Of course he had found someone else. Of course it had been a female. She wondered how long they had been traveling together at that point. How long they had traveled together afterward? How long had it been since losing her?

She pushed those thoughts, and the bile churning in her stomach, down as deep as she could. Thinking that way would help no one, least of all her. It wasn't fair of her to jump to conclusions. And it wasn't right to expect a man...no, an alien, who had been traveling for 900 years before meeting her. 900 years of previous...companions....it was stupid of her to assume he would give up and travel alone. No matter what he had said on that bloody beach.

Truth be told, she didn't really want him to be alone for the rest of his lives anyway. He needed someone, even if it wasn't her. No matter how much it hurt.

She rewound the message, playing it again and this time focusing more on what he was saying instead of the things he wasn't.

She paused it halfway through...a watch?

Dashing around the console, she found the place Arthur had indicated earlier. The fob watch still sat in its slot, plain and nonthreatening. Her hand hovered over it, the hair at the back of her neck standing on end. It was just a watch...but...he said _he_ would be inside the watch. How did that even work? As much as she wanted to rip the watch from the console and wrench it open, she knew that wouldn’t be the best course of action. She could remove it from the console...if it was the watch he had used, she could keep him safe. Safer than Martha probably had.

Batting the jealousy away, she closed her fingers around the watch and lifted it from the console. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair. The watch grew warm in her hand, a faint golden light seeping out from the gaps where the two sides met. The TARDIS sent her a jumbled warning. Voices whispered and hissed in the otherwise silent room. All of that was background. One word jumped out above everything else.

_Rose._

She nearly sobbed from relief, his familiar tone and the way he murmured her name, as if in prayer, had her bowing her head and clutching the fob watch to her chest.

The doors to the TARDIS were pushed open, and Rose snapped her head up, fighting back tears.

“Um, sorry,” Arthur greeted, shuffling awkwardly in the doorway. “I knocked...but…”

“It’s alright. What did you need?” Rose gave him a smile, for once feeling hope swell within her.

“Ah, yes. You need to be sure to get a good night’s rest, and gather up whatever you think you’ll need. We can provide a trunk for you, if you need it.” He paused and gave her a wide grin. “Tomorrow, you and I are going to Hogwarts.”


End file.
